#i was trying to figure out i held a fork

[fireya-x]

family dinner

AO3 Link (for the full tag list) || masterlist

John asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for one night, to save himself from annoying questions from his family. Turns out, you're actually who he really wants.

[9k+ words]

cw: smut, piv sex, cowgirl, handjobs, come eating

Embossed golden script on cream white card paper - it was an invitation to his grandmothers' birthday party, alright. A subtle attempt at elegance from a woman who thought tea and a tin of biscuits solved most problems. John sighed.

He already knew the drill; his mother, every aunt and uncle, cousins and second cousins twice removed would be there, armed to the teeth with baby pictures and probing questions to make him wish he’d stayed in another country in some godforsaken warzone.

The phone ringing cut through John’s meager dinner of takeout curry, one of his favorites, when he was back in his flat for a short time leave. He picked it up and answered before checking, as he usually did, expecting it to be Laswell – but that voice wasn't Kate.

“Jonathan, my dear boy, did you receive the invitation?” His grandmother’s voice was a robust cackle for her age, a force of nature that kept her so fit at ninety.

“Just held it in my hands seconds ago, Nan.” 

“Ninety years young, can you believe it?”

“Never a dull moment,” he answered, picking at the takeaway container lid.

She laughed lightly, then cleared her throat. “Listen, dear. The caterer is extra fussy. Your opinion is special to me, you know that. It’s not like I get to plan this every day”

Here it comes.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m asking you what you want, John. I have everything else planned.” Of course she did. 

“It’s your birthday, Nan. I’ll eat anything,” he sighed. “Toffee pudding can’t be missing from any birthday, though.”

“Of course, that’s a must! Especially with you visiting! You’ve always loved it as a little boy. Now tell me, is your girl more a partial to fish or chicken?”

The fork clattered onto the styrofoam. John almost choked.

“You’ll be bringing someone, aren’t you?”

He should have said no. He should have clarified, for the thousandth time, that his occupation left no room for romantic walks on the beach and candlelit dinners. Maintaining relationships wasn’t something John did, especially when his job included more explosions than birthday candles on her birthday cake. And apparently, eliminating terrorists and global threats was not a suitable substitute for great-grandchildren.

But there was something in her voice. Hope? Excitement to finally see her grandson with a woman at his side? It was her 90th birthday, after all. Who knew how long John would have her still? Seeing him happy was the greatest gift he could give her, and he knew that.

John sighed. “Yes, I will bring someone.”

That she didn't squeal was unexpected, but he knew his mother was right there with her, listening to everything.

Fuck.

What was he supposed to do? Try Tinder, maybe? How hard could it be to find a woman who’d go on a date with him? But John hated every single aspect of using his phone for anything other than texting and calling — and he gave up when the app asked him too many questions about himself.

That’s when he heard footsteps outside his apartment. He remembered that beautiful, chatty neighbor of his. You'd watched his flat and watered his plants a few times when he was deployed. You’d only met briefly, but given John’s sparsely decorated way of living, he wasn’t worried you would steal anything. But his grandmother's plants were something holy to him, and you kept them alive, and that made you a trustworthy person in his book.

And he would be lying if he didn't admit he'd stolen a glance at you here and there, always hidden in a hoodie or a way-too-big raincoat that obscured your figure, and something about it intrigued him.

Before his brain could even process what his feet were doing, he stumbled to the front door and opened it, revealing you, arms full of groceries, struggling to get the key into the door.

“Need help with that?” A low, grumbling voice startled you, and you almost dropped the bag full of fruits and veggies.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

John chuckled, then took the bag from you as if it was something he'd casually do all the time. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, putting the key in the lock. You took the bag from him and wanted to escape this awkward situation with your way-too-good-looking neighbor as fast as possible. But before you could close the door, he intervened.

“Hey, uh, I have a question.” John’s hand ran through his hair, a nervous gesture that betrayed his usual confidence.

“Yes?”

“I – I kinda promised my grandma that I’d bring a girlfriend to her 90th birthday party, and, well –”

“You don’t have one?” The question came out sounding more shocked than you intended. You were certain he had women lining up for him.

“Yeah, I mean, no, I don’t.” His gaze dropped to the floor for a fleeting moment, as if suddenly embarrassed by the admission. You tilted your head, looking at him expectantly.

“So, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? What’s in it for me?”

“Free fancy food?” He smiled crookedly, and you were done for. How could you say no to that smile? The same smile that had been haunting your thoughts ever since he’d given you his keys to his apartment? Your heart was pounding.

“It’s a date,” you said, the words slipping out before you could overthink it. The relief that flooded his eyes made something inside you flutter.

“Thank you, I owe you one. Six p.m. on Friday, alright?”

“What should I wear?”

John wasn’t prepared for that question. And he didn’t mean to check you out – but he did. His eyes wandered from your boots, over your hips, up to your breasts – where his gaze lingered a second too long— and then to your face.

“It’s a garden dinner. I’m sure you’ll look nice in anything,” he said, the words feeling ridiculously inadequate the moment they left his lips.

“Very helpful, thanks.” He braced himself for a sarcastic retort, but you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ll figure it out. Have a nice evening.”

You retreated to your apartment, leaning back against the closed door, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your heart was still pounding. Did John, your neighbor, ask you out? The same John who seemed so unapproachable, wrapped in that aura of intensity he always wore, who disappeared for weeks on end to go on “business trips” and returned with a deep shadow under those blue eyes? 

What did he even do when he disappeared? You'd never asked. Even when he'd given you his keys so you could look after his flat while he was gone, there was nothing that gave away what exactly he did or where he went.

The small conversations you’d shared had always been just that— small nothings, polite exchanges with your friendly neighbor. Still, those infrequent encounters always sent your stomach into a nervous frenzy. 

You rummaged through your closet, trying to find something that screamed “I'm a cool, collected woman who casually dates mysteriously handsome men ” without looking like you’d overdone it. A garden party could literally mean anything, especially since you knew nothing about his family. Were you supposed to pick a nice, flowing dress or stick with casual jeans and a shirt? You had no idea.

You stopped your mind from spiralling further. It wasn’t a real date. It was a fake date . 

What were you thinking, agreeing to this? You were doubting your own sanity — but then you remembered the crinkled corners of his eyes when he smiled, the warmth that radiated from him when he’d helped you with your groceries – saying “no” to him wasn’t even an option. There was something about him that drew you in, a gravitational pull you couldn’t resist, even if it meant playing pretend.

The sundress you wore – he couldn’t even pinpoint the colour, something soft and warm, summery, like the sky just before dusk – hugged your curves in all the right ways, the delicate straps showcasing the elegant line of your neck and collarbone. His gaze traced the gentle swell of your breasts beneath the thin fabric, the way the skirt flowed over your hips, his mind already picturing how it would look bunched up around your waist when –

Fuck.

A wave of heat - he knew it so well, yet hadn’t felt it in what seemed like forever - crashed over him, settled deep in his gut, tightening his muscles, making his cock twitch.

He shifted uncomfortably, desperately hoping you hadn’t noticed the way his pants suddenly felt about two sizes too small.

He’d usually never been one for flowery dresses and delicate gold jewellery like the earrings that decorated your ears. They clashed with the brutal reality of his world. But on you, it was devastating. You were an innocent, oblivious creature walking straight into his hardened, cynical world without even knowing it. And somehow, against all logic and years of self-preservation, he wanted to corrupt every part of you.

His gaze snapped to the flesh of your delicate thighs that left little to his imagination, those toned legs wrapped around his waist while he pulled you closer and –

Jesus fucking Christ, get a grip.

He forced himself to look away, clenching his jaw so hard he thought he’d pull a muscle.

This was his neighbour. You , who’d watered his plants, borrowed his toolbox, offered a smile whenever you met in the hallway. The one who’d agreed to this incredibly stupid idea. You were doing him a favour, for God’s sake.

“Ready?” He shoved the word out harsher than he’d intended, the sound completely alien to even his own ears. But before you could answer, he shut his door and ushered you towards the exit. He needed air. He’d preferred an ice bath, preferably yesterday.

You didn’t mind adapting to roles and play pretend at all, but as soon as you arrived at the estate, your confidence got humbled. The house was huge, and the driveway alone was already filled with floral arrangements and all sorts of birthday wishes – an enormous ninety made out of entirely blush pink roses and lavender decorated the front yard.

The garden party was in full swing already when you two arrived. The air buzzed with the sound of laughter and chatter, clinking glasses and the distant beat of a live band. John seemed oddly out of place in between the flowers and the brightly dressed guests, like a lone wolf who had been dragged to a tea party.

But as soon as you stepped further into the event, the warm air surrounding you, the scent of freshly cut grass and citrus, the smiling faces all around you, your anxiety about the whole thing lessened. 

“Don’t worry too much," John's arm brushed against yours as you navigated through the clusters of guests. He reached out to grab two drinks from a passing waiter’s tray. “The worst they could do is show you my childhood photos.”

He offered you a drink, and you took it from him, smiling. “Somehow, that’s not as reassuring as you think it is.” You earned yourself a deep chuckle that rumbled through his chest and did decidedly inappropriate things to your equilibrium.

When John took your free hand into his like it was the most normal thing in the world, you felt like this was going to be the easiest task. For a fleeting moment, it was easy to forget you were living a lie.

Until dinner.

The seating arrangements were strategically orchestrated, it seemed, to maximize family bonding - or torture, you hadn’t decided which. You found yourself sitting between John, radiating a mix of polite restraint and his usual natural intensity that set your pulse racing, and a woman with the same kind eyes as him.

“This is my mother, Eleanor,” John had introduced her earlier, her smile so warm and welcoming you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be playing a role. She seemed almost too impressed when you'd introduced yourself, as if she couldn't quite believe he was telling the truth about having a girlfriend. 

You'd prove them wrong, not for their sake, but for your own growing satisfaction at seeing John surprised.

You were no stranger to the barrage of questions about your single status and lack of a partner from your own family, so you knew how tiresome it could get. You braced yourself for a similar interrogation.

Across the table, John's grandma beamed at you with a delight that melted your heart. You understood then what this was all about for him — fulfilling his grandmother's wish to see him happy, settled.

On impulse, you reached out to grab John’s hand beside yours, your fingers threading through his, offering him a reassuring smile, pretending to bring out your best I-am-so-in-love look you could muster. 

He seemed taken aback, his entire body stiffening for a split second as if your touch were an electric shock. But then he recovered quickly, his fingers tightening around yours with a gentle pressure that sent goosebumps dancing up your arm. He raised your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles that lingered a heartbeat too long.

Your breath caught in your throat, your gaze fixated on the curve of his lips, the way his beard scraped against your skin. Your stomach did a somersault, your senses flooded with a rush of longing that was as unexpected as it was undeniably thrilling.

“So,” John's aunt leaned across the table, her voice a bit too loud, as if intended to break the spell you’d fallen under. “What do you do?”

You blinked, momentarily disoriented, your gaze reluctantly leaving John’s hand and focusing on the plate of food a server had just placed before you. Shepherd's pie. But not just any shepherd’s pie. This looked like a culinary masterpiece compared to the frozen meals you were used to eating all the time.

“I work in healthcare,” you answered, your mouth already watering at the sight of the culinary heaven before you. “I’m an ER nurse.”

“Oh, wow,” his grandma chirped from across the table, her eyes twinkling with genuine interest. Her comment, however, was quickly drowned out by his aunt's next, slightly more probing, question.

“I'm amazed you two met with such busy schedules. To be fair,” she added with a sly smile directed at John, “I'm shocked Jonathan managed to find someone at all with his occupation .”

Your fork, laden with a generous portion of creamy mashed potatoes and perfectly seasoned mince, froze halfway to your mouth. Your earlier questions about the nature of John’s job came rushing back. What exactly did he do? You knew he was often away for extended periods, you even kept his plants from dying a slow death from time to time, but his reasons had always been vague. “Business trips,” he’d called them, with a shrug and that infuriatingly handsome smile.

“Right,” you managed, forcing a light laugh as you carefully set your fork back down, your appetite momentarily forgotten. “We make it work. We talk a lot on the phone."

“You do?” His mother, ever the perceptive one, turned to John, her brows raised in what you could only describe as disbelief. “How come you always tell us you can’t contact us?”

John cleared his throat and his hand reached for his beer, his fingers wrapping around the cold glass. “Kate makes some exceptions,” he explained, his gaze fixed on the drink.

Kate? Your mind scrambled for context, your internal “John’s-Life” file coming up short. “Kate” let him make exceptions? Who was Kate, and more importantly, what kind of job required someone to ask permission to make personal phone calls? And why did you feel jealous - you had absolutely no business to feel this way. 

“Who’s Kate?” You asked, reaching for your champagne flute, unable to hide the accusatory edge creeping into your voice.

“My boss . Sort of.” The golden liquid got caught halfway in your throat. First name basis with his boss? His family knew his boss? So many questions came up, and you were slowly starting to panic. You were supposed to be a believable girlfriend, but you were scared the mask was slipping away by the second. 

“Oh, right, Kate. Sorry, darling. You know how my weeks have been lately. It's a wonder I can remember my own name half the time.”

“She must be happy for you, too,” his mother commented, delicately spearing a piece of fish with a precision that made you suspect years of etiquette training lay beneath her impeccably polite facade. “Finding someone special, I mean. Might even spare her some of your, shall we say, moods .” She glanced at John, her eyebrows arched as if she was sharing a private joke with the entire table, except you.

Moods? You’d always found John to be quiet, reserved, perhaps a tad intimidating at times, but never moody. 

You glanced at John, who was pointedly studying his plate, the faintest hint of a flush creeping up his neck. You wouldn't have thought the man capable of embarrassment. It made him seem unexpectedly human, and somehow even more attractive.

You were about to ask for clarification when Nan seized the conversational reins. “So, darlings,” she asked, her gaze moving back and forth between you and John, her smile widening expectantly, “How long have you two known each other?”

“I think six months?” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips.

At the exact same moment, John declared, “Almost a year now,” his voice deep and steady, completely contradicting your rushed estimation.

You froze. The silence that descended upon the table was deafening. 

“Has it already been that long?” you exclaimed quickly, forcing a bright smile and injecting as much wonder and mock surprise into your voice as you could muster. You prayed that your sudden rush of amnesia would be enough to distract them from the giant, elephant-sized hole you’d just blown in your story. You reached over to slightly squeeze his hand. “I suppose time flies when you’re in love.”

You snuck a peek at John, expecting to see panic, maybe even annoyance, but what you found in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. He was watching you intensely. And that smile playing at the corner of his lips? It made something dangerous and delicious twist low in your belly.

“I believe that,” John’s grandma chimed in, her voice warm with the wisdom of nine decades lived. “You two are very lovely together.”

Eleanor nodded in agreement. “She’s good for you, Jonathan. Maybe having someone special to come home to will make those long missions away a little easier.”

"Speaking of which, how’s that new posting treating you, lad? Heard it’s a bit of a hot zone, eh?” John's uncle boomed across the table.

“It has its challenges,” John replied, taking a long sip of his beer as if to fortify himself for the inevitable round of inquiries. “But it’s good to be back in the field.”

You frowned. Field? Posting? What kind of job involved working in a “field”? And what exactly made it a “hot zone?” You felt more and more confused by the conversation, it was as if they spoke an entirely different language, a language riddled with code words and shared experiences you weren’t privy to.

“That I believe,” his uncle answered, also reaching for his beer as if to toast to a shared understanding. “Bet your rank will get you far, though.”

You felt John tense beside you, his hand tightening around yours, not letting go. His family's casual acceptance of his frequent — and apparently lengthy — disappearances made you increasingly curious. You knew by now he often travelled for work, but something about the way they spoke, the underlying thread of concern laced with pride, hinted at a world you were only just starting to glimpse.

“I imagine those long stretches apart must be difficult, darling,” John's aunt commented, her gaze fixed on you with a sympathy that only deepened your bewilderment. “But I’m sure you’re used to it by now, working in a hospital and all. Those long shifts must be a challenge, too.”

You smiled, still confused about what was going on—but you also saw an opportunity. It was time to take control of the narrative, to steer this conversation into a territory you could navigate — even if it meant bending the truth further than it had already been twisted.

“Speaking of long stretches,” you interjected, shooting John a look that was equal parts challenge and playful invitation. You’d gone from wanting to bolt to wanting to play this game, see how far you could push him, how convincingly you could both lie. “Remember that road trip we took last fall? The one where we got hopelessly lost in the Scottish Highlands and ended up sleeping in the car?”

As you spoke, you noticed that everyone else at the table had dived into their food, the initial round of introductions and polite inquiries fading into a comfortable murmur of conversation. Nan beamed at you both, her fork hovering over a generous slice of shepherd’s pie, her eyes twinkling with the quiet pleasure of seeing her grandson – even a pretend version of him – happy.

Beside you, John stiffened, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and what you could only interpret as wary amusement. “Ah, yes,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like velvet draped over steel. “Scotland. Beautiful, isn’t it, love?”

“Beautiful?” you countered, tilting your head and letting out a soft laugh that you were fairly certain sounded far more genuine than it should have. You couldn’t help but admire his quick thinking, the way he effortlessly picked up on your cue and played along. “Those winding Highland roads. They were more treacherous than romantic, if I’m being honest. I was certain you were going to drive us straight off a cliff at least a dozen times.”

His smile widened, revealing a flash of teeth that made something deep inside you melt a little. “I assure you, love, my driving is impeccable. You were simply distracted.” His gaze lingered on your face for a beat too long.

A delicious warmth flooded your cheeks. “Distracted? I seem to recall you being the one with wandering eyes," you countered, your voice dropping to a low murmur as you met his gaze head-on. You weren’t sure if the heightened awareness you felt buzzing between you was a product of the lies you were weaving or something more.

“That’s because you are quite the sight to behold, love,” he said, his voice husky, the words brushing against your senses like a caress.

You stared at him, your mind scrambling to process his words, their unexpected sincerity throwing you off balance. Had he just complemented you?

“You are—” He paused, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on your chest. He didn’t even try to hide it. You held your breath, waiting, as the air thrummed with a sudden, unexpected intimacy.

“Breathtaking.”

What was he doing? you thought, your heart pounding. Was he still playing the part, or was there something more simmering beneath the surface? And why did the possibility excite you?

The air thickened, the sound of his family’s conversation fading into the background as the world seemed to shrink, the space between you charged with an energy that was impossible to ignore. You weren't sure if you wanted to laugh or lean across the table and kiss him senseless.

Just as you felt yourself leaning into that dangerous impulse, Eleanor cleared her throat delicately.

You both startled, like students caught whispering in the back of the classroom. John's cheeks, you noticed with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, were flushed a faint shade of pink. Even a man like John wasn't immune to a mother's watchful gaze.

“Those rolls are delicious, dear,” Eleanor commented, and turned to you, her tone light but her eyes sharp with amusement. “Why don't you have one?” 

You reached for a roll, suddenly starving, the earlier tension dissolving into a relieved chuckle as you caught John's eyes. He winked at you, a playful glint in his blue eyes. You winked back, feeling a warmth spread through you caused by the man sitting beside you, a man who, despite your best efforts to resist, was quickly becoming more than just a convenient prop in this game of play pretend.

You'd managed to escape the clutches of the dinner table without completely blowing your cover, even when, at some points, you weren’t so sure how nobody saw right through you. But then came the real challenge — mingling. The party had moved inside the house, and you were separated from John. 

You silently cursed yourself for agreeing to this whole fabricated scenario. What if you told completely different stories to his relatives? What if someone asked you about his work, for God’s sake?

Glasses of port in hand, John’s extended family seemed very determined to catch up on months’ worth of news in one evening. You did your best to smile politely at every occasion, your inner monologue continuously reminding you to simply not say anything stupid.

Suddenly, a very chipper and well-dressed woman intruded on your personal space, waving her phone in front of your face. “You must be John’s girl!” she exclaimed, and before you could even answer, she swiped through numerous photos. “Look at her – isn't she adorable!”

You leaned in, attempting to make eye contact with the child in the photos while subtly taking a step back, her perfume a bit overwhelming. “Absolutely adorable,” you agreed, putting on a wide grin, and the woman beamed. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what children you and John will bring into this world. Aren’t they the greatest thing?”

Children? Your smile faltered. You opened your mouth to respond, to stammer out some vague response about “one step at a time”, but before you could even get a word out, the woman had moved on, already excitedly showing off her offspring to the next unsuspecting relative. 

Note to self: Avoid eye contact with anyone holding a baby photo, you thought, your internal panic rising. This whole “fake girlfriend” thing was rapidly becoming a high-stakes obstacle course, and you weren’t sure you were agile enough to navigate it without falling flat on your face.

You were trying to reach John, a plate of sticky toffee pudding on your plate, wanting to show off that you were going to try his favorite dessert – when a booming voice cut through the chatter, catching your attention. “There he is!” A tall, older man with curly hair approached John and shook his hand with a force that could crush granite. “That last mission you pulled off? Absolute textbook. A captain leading his own task force? The old man would be bloody proud.”

John’s posture stiffened ever so slightly. “Cheers, uncle,” he responded, raising his glass, his gaze darting towards you for the briefest of moments.

Mission? Captain? Task force?

The people around you, completely oblivious to your internal meltdown, continued chatting, casually dropping words like “deployment,” “classified,” “weapons,” and all other sorts of military jargon as if they were discussing the weather.

Suddenly, everything fell into place.

All those late-night departures, when you heard heavy footsteps echo through your shared hallway; the vague explanations about “work trips” when you met him outside your apartment; those calls he received at odd hours, his voice tight, his tone clipped, echoing through your shared walls; those calls that always seemed to coincide with a breaking news report or some global crisis. John, your sweet, infuriatingly attractive, seemingly normal neighbor – was leading a deadly task force.

Not that it was any of your business what he did. He owed you nothing.

Then why did this feel like such a blow? That he didn’t tell you beforehand, throwing you into the midst of his family who were clearly all about that life, and leaving you in the dark, making a complete idiot of yourself?

You had been looking forward to trying the famous dessert all evening, but suddenly, your appetite completely vanished. The plate that you held suddenly felt as appealing as cold porridge.

“Everything alright, love?” John approached, noticing the shift in your mood.

You forced a smile, hoping it was convincing. “Peachy,” you replied. “Just, fascinating, hearing everyone’s stories.” You stabbed the pudding with your spoon, not sure where the feelings of anger came from.

You shoved the plate into his chest, forcing him to take it from you. “I just need some air.” You turned and made your way towards his Nan’s beautiful rose garden.

He’d lied to you.

Well, maybe not lied, exactly. Maybe it was the sudden awareness of the danger that shadowed his every move, who he really was, who he was compared to you.

You had every right to feel foolish, to even agree to such a stupid idea. But betrayal? You had no idea where it came from, it seemed like an overreach for a situation that had been, from the beginning, just a constructed lie.

Stepping out into the cool of the garden, you breathed a sigh of relief. The scent of flowers seemed to calm your racing mind a little, a welcome contrast to all the voices you just escaped. You found your way to a small bench underneath an old oak tree, sinking onto the cool wood, straightening your dress doing so.

You didn’t hear John approach, but then again, stealth was probably part of his many talents. You didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, stopping right next to you, an arm leaning on the backrest of the bench.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, frustrated by all these emotions you were feeling. “Well, the food is excellent, your grandma is adorable, and I haven’t witnessed any international incidents first-hand - yet. So that’s a win, I guess?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, a welcome contrast to the tension that had been knotting your stomach ever since you’d pieced together the things about his life. You’d grown accustomed to that sound, to the way it rumbled deep in his chest, unexpectedly gentle for a man who, apparently, spent his days navigating a world far removed from yours.

He shifted slightly, settling beside you on the bench. You felt the heat radiating off him in the cool air of the evening, an awareness that lingered even though he wasn’t touching you.

“Look,” he began, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, a gesture that was strangely endearing on a man who usually was so confident. “My life –” He gestured vaguely towards the party, the house. The unspoken explanation – “ my life is a full-blown, military-grade soap opera ” – hung in the air between you.

“You know,” you interrupted him, turning to face him. “A little heads-up about what you do would have been nice. Especially that it’s such an important thing in your family.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It wasn’t fair to throw you into that without a warning. I guess because it’s so normal to me, I just completely forgot about it.”

“I’m a nurse, I don’t really specialize in disarming bombs or whatever it is your uncles like to do for fun.”

He laughed then, a full, hearty laugh, that made your heart flutter faster in your chest.

“It’s not funny.” You said, looking away. “And I know I have absolutely no right to feel – ” you struggled to find the right word. 

“To feel –?” he prompted, leaning a little closer.

“Disappointed,” you breathed. “It’s silly, I just felt like I was left out of inside jokes during dinner. I tried so hard to not let this lie slip, but it could have been so much easier if I had known.” You took a deep breath. “So, while I was keeping your plants alive," you added, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice, "You were out there doing what exactly? Neutralizing threats? Saving the world? I missed that chapter in the ‘Good Neighbor Handbook.’”

You couldn’t help the edge that crept into your voice. At first, it had just been a fun little game, a chance to play dress-up and enjoy delicious food. But now, now it felt different. You were, suddenly, uncomfortably aware of just how much you didn’t know about the man sitting beside you. 

The silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the gentle chirping of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves overhead. John stared at you, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“You probably think I am a complete idiot,” you continued, the words tumbling out in a rush, a jumble of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. “I'm sorry, I'm being absolutely dramatic –”

The words died on your lips as his hands shot out, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks with a touch that was both possessive and unexpectedly tender. His gaze held yours captive, those blue eyes burning with a fierce intensity that stole your breath away. And then, without a word, without warning, his mouth crashed down on yours.

His lips were hard, demanding, hungry, devouring yours as if he couldn’t get close enough, his tongue tangling with yours in a desperate, unyielding dance. 

It was primal, raw, untamed. It was the kind of kiss that stripped away the pretence, obliterated the boundaries, and left you gasping for air, your mind reeling, your body aching for something you couldn’t name but craved with every fibre of your being.

Time seemed to stand still — the garden, the party, the lie — it all faded away. There was only the feel of his lips on yours, the light scrape of his beard against your skin. The taste of him was intoxicating, the heat of his body radiating off him in waves.

Eventually, he pulled back, his breath mingling with yours in the night air. His hands lingered, resting on your face, slightly tracing the lines of your jawline. His gaze was wild, eyes dark and burning into you with an intensity that made you want to melt into a puddle.

You stared back, your mind racing. This was the moment the lines blurred. There had been something there — you felt it. It was more than pretend, more than just playing a game. Desire. Interest. Even though you felt like you no longer knew this man at all, you wanted to get to know him all over again. Taste him, touch him — you blinked, trying to collect your thoughts.

“Would you prefer to leave?” John's hand, still warm from its possessive grip on your face, gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture both intimate and oddly reassuring.

You shook your head. “It’s your grandma's birthday. You can’t just leave because I feel uncomfortable.”

“I think we’ve both had enough of the party for one night,” he murmured, a quick smile flashing across his face. “I’m going to let her know you aren’t feeling too well. Alright?”

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your cheek, then, with a low rumble, he whispered in your ear, “Wait here.”

In front of both your apartment doors, the silence was an awkwardly long stretch. It felt like you were both trying to understand what had just happened, unsure where to begin.

“So, um,” he started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that you found strangely endearing. “Thank you for coming.”

You nodded and smiled, “Of course. It was nice to get the dust off this dress again.”

He leaned towards you slowly, and your breath hitched. For one heart-stopping moment, you thought he might kiss you again – would he? Was what happened in the garden just an impulsive decision?

But he hesitated, the moment frozen, and there was something indecisive happening between you. But you didn’t mean to push, neither did he.

He cleared his throat and finally spoke. “Good night,” he said, his words careful, as if he were holding back from saying something else.

“Good night,” you echoed, your voice barely a whisper. The small hope that you'd taste him one more time evaporated.

You turned, your hand reaching for your door, keys almost to the lock, when strong hands grabbed you, spinning you around in a dizzying motion. Before you could even register what was happening, his lips were on yours again — silencing all those unspoken doubts and hesitations.

This was real. You felt it; your heart screamed it; the way his mouth was devouring yours, displaying a hunger and desire that shouted it from the rooftops.

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on for dear life, as his tongue traced the seam of your lips with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. You felt the rumble of his groan against your mouth as he backed you against your apartment door, his body moulding against yours as if he was starving for the feel of you. You were breathless, lost in the heat of his touch, the way his hands roamed your back and finally settled on the curve of your ass.

You realized then that you had always dreamed of kissing this man, silently, secretly, whenever his eyes lingered on yours for a beat too long right there in the hallway. You’d always dismissed those fantasies as wishful thinking, but clearly, he’d been wanting the same.

You heard a click as the lock on your door was turned, and you felt as his hand fumbled with the doorknob behind your back – all while his lips were still on yours, occasionally wandering to kiss your jaw and giving you an opportunity to breathe. He cursed under his breath, and before you even processed what was happening, he shouldered the door open and pushed both of you back into the darkness of your apartment.

The familiar space of your home was suddenly transformed, and John's touch was the compass guiding you. He didn't release you, keeping you close to his body as if you might slip away. With a smooth movement, he shoved the door shut, tossing your keys somewhere onto the floor.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up flush against him, the gasp that escaped your lips quickly swallowed by his next kiss. He carried you, your legs wrapped around his waist, until he reached your couch, where he gently laid you down, his body hovering over yours, his eyes devouring you, making you feel incredibly vulnerable.

The sofa dipped as he planted his knees left and right next to your legs, and he leaned to hover over you. You were both breathing hard, the only sound in the silent room. The only light illuminating you was the sliver of moonlight spilling through the window above.

“Is this still pretend?” you managed to whisper, your voice a shaky breath.

His eyes locked onto yours, the slight smirk on his face sending a thrill to your core. His hands moved to your hips, deliberately grinding them against his groin. You gasped as you felt the hardness of his arousal pressed against you, hyperaware of the thin fabric separating your most intimate parts.

“Fuck, no,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. He moved his hips again, his hands slowly but intentionally pushing up your dress.

Your skin felt like it was on fire; your head was spinning. 

One of his hands moved up to the line of your dress, and with a rumble in his throat, he pulled the fabric aside, exposing the swell of your breasts to his hungry gaze.

His pupils dilated, his eyes dark and intense, as he stared at you like a starving man presented with a banquet. You'd never been so incredibly turned on, no man had ever made you feel this way— John’s simple gesture of delicately tracing the skin around your nipples made you moan so loudly you immediately threw a hand over your mouth, slightly embarrassed.

“No, let me hear it all. You sing so beautifully, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand gently moving yours away, his touch a mixture of possessiveness and unexpected tenderness.

"John,” you breathed, your voice a shaky sigh.

“This bloody dress,” he groaned. “Wanted to rip it off you the second I saw you standing at my door.” His voice was raw, unfiltered – gone was the nice, gentle neighbor; this was the Captain coming through, the darker, more commanding side of him that should have scared you, but only served to intensify the desire swirling inside you. You wanted to know all about the man he left behind as soon as he stepped into this building.

“Every fuckin' time I saw you in the hallway, those quick hellos were never enough,” he confessed, one hand tightening on your hip, the other slowly trailing down your skin beneath the hem of your dress. His touch was agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of heat in its wake that made you lose your mind. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His words were so honest, it caught you off guard completely. It must have shown on your face right then, because he smiled in return. “Never thought I’d stand a chance," he admitted. "You always seemed out of reach.”

You frowned. “Out of reach?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Figured I’d never stand a chance against the queue of blokes lining up at your door.”

“John, what? A queue, for me?” You laughed, your disbelief genuine, gesturing towards yourself.

He sighed, sitting up, his fingers playing with the lace trim of your panties as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re beautiful, and tonight, I learned it’s inside and out. You're you, and that's fuckin’ wonderful."

You shook your head in disbelief. His words made your entire body tremble.  He wasn’t just looking at your body; he was seeing you. And it felt extraordinary.

He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a longing that mirrored your own. “I kept thinking about what you were hiding underneath those baggy clothes,” he confessed, his voice a husky whisper, his fingers slowly sliding your panties down your legs. He felt you shy away from him a little, a smirk on his face stole your breath, as he pushed your legs apart with his calloused hands. “Like I said, so beautiful.” He whispered, his voice so rough with what you could only describe as lust. It made you shiver.

“You know,” you whispered, “The funny thing is, I thought exactly the same.”

“What do you mean?” You watched as he slowly ran a hand along your thighs. A ragged breath escaped your lungs, and you struggled to continue speaking.

“You’re incredible – there’s no way you didn’t have someone to –”

“To what?” he asked, suddenly stopping his movements, his gaze intense. “Willing to take a chance on a bloke who doesn’t know a thing about flowers or romantic dinners? Who spends more time on planes than in his own flat? Whose idea of a good time involves dodging bullets and disarming explosives?” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head.

He was being so completely honest with you, so vulnerable, it sent a sharp pang through your chest. He was seeing you – the real you, hidden beneath the baggy clothes and carefully constructed walls – and for the first time that night, you were truly seeing him . John, who looked like he could bench-press a small car, who radiated an aura of danger as naturally as he breathed. 

He wasn’t some playboy who brought women home every other night, like you’d assumed. He could have any woman he wanted – and yet, here he was, his gaze tracing every inch of your naked body.

He liked you. He’d thought about you.

It felt surreal.

“Best decision I’ve made in a long time,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Asking you, I mean. Thinking I could never have you, and now –”

You held your breath, anticipation coiling in your stomach. “Now what?” you whispered.

“You’re mine.” He growled, and before your brain could even process what happened, his mouth was on your clit, kissing and sucking like he finally got to taste that delicious meal he was promised. 

“Oh god–!” you moaned, your hands instinctively gripping his hair, your nails digging into his scalp. He moaned, and the vibration of it against your skin made your legs twitch uncontrollably.

John’s touch was relentless, his tongue swirling against your most sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you that were unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. You arched against him, your hips bucking involuntarily, craving more of the delicious friction that was driving you to the edge of madness.

He seemed to sense your desperation, the way your body was begging for something more. He pulled back, his gaze meeting yours, his eyes dark with a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified you. His hand replaced his tongue, fingers gently caressing your sensitive clit. “Look at you,” he murmured. “So fuckin’ hot.”

“John,” you breathed, you were speaking without any control over it.

“What do you need, love?” he asked, his voice thick with lust, his hand never ceasing its tormenting, exquisite torture against your aching core.

“I – I need –” You couldn't form the words. Your mind was blank, and your body was trembling with need that eclipsed all rational thought.

He seemed to understand, his gaze softening, a knowing smile curving his lips. He rose slightly, his hands moving towards the belt buckle, groaning as he released himself from the confines of his trousers.

He stepped out of his pants, the sound of fabric hitting the floor echoing in the sudden silence. His shirt followed shortly after, and you were captivated. His body was hard, sculpted muscle, his arousal straining against the fabric of his boxers, proof of the desire you'd awakened within him.

You watched, mesmerized, as he slowly peeled off his boxers, his gaze never leaving yours. His hand reached down, fisting himself, and your breath hitched at the sight.

“Still think you’re not attractive to me, love? Look what you’re doing to me,” he let his thumb slowly run over the head of his length, spreading the drop of pre-come that formed there, and he must have known it was teasing you, driving you mad. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded.

You opened your mouth to speak, to voice the desire that was burning through you with the force of a supernova, but the words caught in your throat. All you could manage was a whimper as your fingers were digging into the cushions, hips arching upwards, instinctively seeking out friction you craved.

You felt like if you couldn't have him, you might die.

“Uh-uh.” His hand reached forward to grab the soft flesh of your tits, one after the other, and his thumb brushed a teasing circle around your nipples, the pressure increasing just enough to make you gasp. "I said, tell me what you want.”

“You,” you confessed, the words torn from your very soul. “For God's sake, I fucking need you.”

John's gaze intensified, his eyes dark, and the corner of his mouth twitched, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. He loomed over you like a predator about to claim his prey. With a growl, he leaned down, pressing his mouth on yours, and you could feel his erection pressing between your folds.

One of his hands shot out, cupping the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair, holding you captive. 

“You’re going to get everything you need, love,” he breathed, and followed by his promise, he entered you in a deliberately slow movement, almost torturous. He moaned, so raw and primal, it made you clench around him, and your entire body ignited as he filled you completely. His size, his heat, the intensity of the sensation – it sent your senses into overdrive, causing you to dig your nails into his back.

“Ohhh fuck,” you moaned, your voice a breathless whisper, lost in a world of sensation he'd created with his touch.

He paused, holding himself perfectly still within you, savoring the feel of your body clenching around him and the soft moans escaping your lips.

You whimpered, arching your hips up instinctively, desperate for more, aching for him to erase every thought, every doubt, every worry, with the overwhelming pleasure that throbbed between you.

He chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down your spine, and then he moved. Slowly at first, deliberately drawing out the sensation, his hips rocking against yours, each thrust a slow, agonizingly delicious torture that had you clinging to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your nails leaving trails of fire on his skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice tight with need as he buried himself deeper. “You're so fucking tight – so fucking wet.”

But even in the haze of pleasure, a primal instinct took over. He needed more. He rolled you both over, shifting his weight so that you were straddling his lap, your legs draped over his thighs, your core aligned perfectly with his arousal. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he reached for the hem of your dress, his fingers working quickly, impatiently, to free you from the loosely hanging fabric.

“Now,” his hands found your hips, guiding you closer, his thumbs stroking the sensitive flesh. “Ride me, love.”

You looked down at him, at the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes, the way his chest heaved with each ragged breath, and a surge of confidence, of pure, unadulterated lust, washed over you. You began to move, supporting your weight against him by running your hands through the light fur that dusted his chest. 

His hands dug deeper into your skin as you increased the pace, moving faster, harder, riding his cock wildly, completely lost in the pleasure.

Every movement sent jolts of pleasure through you. He watched you, his gaze never leaving your face, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as if he were hanging onto your every move.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his voice thick with approval. “Like that, love. Ride me hard.”

His words were a primal command, a challenge that sent a thrill through you, making you even bolder, even more daring. You leaned forward and kissed him, biting his lip, drawing a groan from him that resonated deep in your core.

He tasted of salt and desire, the scent of his arousal filling your senses, making you wild. His hands were guiding your movements, matching your intensity, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge of release.

With each thrust, you felt the coil of pleasure tighten inside you, building towards a crescendo that threatened to shatter you both. You moved faster, harder, your body driven by an instinct as old as time itself. His touch was a brand, marking you as his, and the possessive hunger in his eyes as you rode him, almost send you over the edge alone.

He was groaning now, his words a jumble of incoherent pleas and praises, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggled to maintain control. You felt him tense, the muscles in his thighs and arms bunching beneath your touch, and you knew the storm was about to break.

“Don’t stop,” his voice was raw with need, his gaze burning into you as if he wanted to sear this moment into his soul. “Come for me, love. Let me feel you shatter."

And with one final, earth-shattering thrust, you did.

A shudder ripped through you, a wave of pleasure so intense it stole your breath away. Your walls clenched around him, a thousand tiny sparks of sensation exploding behind your eyelids. Your name tumbled from his lips, a breathless groan, as he held you tighter. You cried out, the sound swallowed by his eager mouth as he captured your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over you, leaving you trembling, weak, utterly undone.

After you came down from your high, you watched him intently as he was also struggling on the edge of release. Driven by need and desire, you slowly let his cock slip out of you. He made a sound that sounded animalistic, a groan, low and deep in his chest, an expression of frustration. Your hand moved instantly, your fingers finding his length, circling him, stroking him with a deliberate, unhurried rhythm. Your fingertips traced a feather-light path up the underside of his shaft, lingering at the sensitive ridge just below the head before gliding back down to the base, your thumb brushing teasingly against the swollen vein that pulsed with his arousal.

His head fell back against the cushions, his eyes closed, a ragged breath escaping his lips as you continued to tease him, your touch the only cure for his aching need. You watched him, mesmerized by the play of muscle beneath your hand, the raw power he embodied even at that moment of vulnerability.

“I can't –” His fingers dug into the cushions, his body tensing as if fighting against the tide of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him.

You smiled. The power thrumming between you was intoxicating, addictive. “Can’t what, John?” you whispered, leaning in, your lips trailing a teasing path along the hard planes of his stomach. “Can’t hold back anymore?”

His answer was a strangled groan. His body went rigid, and the wave of pleasure that followed was written all over his face. His hand shot out, not to stop you, but to grip your wrist. His fingers tightened around it, his control started slipping, shattering, as his release washed over him.

You whispered small praises, and watched, fascinated, as his release spurted over your hand in hot, pulsing bursts. His hips were stuttering, his cock, hard, thick in your grasp, throbbed, and the remnants of his release felt warm against your skin. He was completely at your mercy.

You’d never felt this bold, this empowered, this reckless. Before you could overthink it, you raised your hand to your mouth and licked his come off of your fingers.

Your wish to taste him, it couldn’t get any more him than this. Salt, sweat, and something so uniquely his. It made your walls clench around nothing, sending a new wave of excitement through you.

John’s gaze snapped to yours, his eyes wide, a flicker of something dark and possessive flaring in their depths as he watched you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and reached out, his hand resting on your neck, his thumb slowly stroking along your pulse. “You’re something else, you know that, love?”

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. The sudden awareness of your actions, the intimacy of the moment, sent a wave of shyness washing over you. “I, uh,” you trailed off, averting your gaze, unable to meet the intensity burning in his eyes. Your cheeks burned, and you wanted to hide.

John’s hand shifted, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Don't shy away from me now, sweetheart,” he murmured and softly ran his thumbs over your lips. “Not after that.”

“That was –” You struggled to find the words, your thoughts were a mess. “I've never –”

“Never?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, the scent of him filling your senses, making you dizzy.

“Never been that bold,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to his lips, their fullness suddenly a source of endless fascination. “Or wanted someone so intensely.”

A dark smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with triumph and something that sent a delicious thrill through you. “Good,” he growled, the word a low rumble that vibrated through you. “Because you're mine now, love. And I'm not about to let you forget it.”

And then, before you could protest – not that you had any intention of doing so – his lips crashed down on yours. It wasn’t gentle. This kiss was a possession, a claiming, a wildfire consuming everything in its path. His hand shot out to grab your neck, holding you close to him.

This really wasn't pretend anymore.

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt3) | Leah Williamson

A bit more of Leah while everything around you gets more intense warnings: just fluff and slow burn pt1 - pt4 - my masterlist

Leah's love for tennis skirts had just been solidified. She found herself frozen, her fork suspended midway to her mouth. Your video call had caught her off guard, and the first thing to greet her on the screen was you, your back facing the camera, only in your sports bra and the skirt you wore during your recent match, which had wrapped up just a few hours ago.

"Hellooo?" Leah said, gently placing her fork back onto the table.

"Just a sec!" you called out, still with your back turned to the camera.

Leah watched as you reached into your bag, pulling out a black t-shirt that you slipped on.  Unlike the tight one you wore for tennis, this one was baggy—definitely a guy’s shirt, she thought.

"Did you watch my match?" you asked, now facing the camera on your phone, which sat at the coffee table in the room.

"Yep" Leah replied, flipping her phone’s camera to show the TV tuned to the sports channel.  “Feeling nervous about the quarterfinals?” she asked, sounding both curious and supportive.

"Nah... I don't know who I'll be facing yet though," you said, slipping off your socks. "At least I’ve got two days to rest before the game."

"Yeah, like you’ll actually rest," Leah teased.

"You're probably right," you chuckled knowing she had you figured out. During your first call yesterday, you had explained your intense training routine before matches. "What are you having?" you asked Leah, curiosity evident in your voice as you held your phone again.

"Smiley faces," Leah said, poking a potato and showing it to you through the camera.

"What?" you laughed, not quite sure what she was showing you.

"Potato smiles. Delicious," she said, grinning as she popped the potato into her mouth.

"Ew! Didn't your mum teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" you teased, though you found it amusing to watch Leah goof around. "Do they taste like real potatoes? I've never tried them."

"What are you talking about?" Leah gasped, dramatically dropping her fork onto her plate. "Are you kidding me?"

"Whoa, you sound genuinely offended," you said, struggling to contain your laughter.

"Of course I am! How is it possible you've never tasted these? What did you eat all through your childhood?" she asked, her face completely serious.

"Leah... would you believe me if I told you I didn't try a nugget until I was 16?" you said, your tone turning more serious. "It was when a friend from school invited me over for dinner. My mum was always particular about what I ate." Leah's expression turned to a slight frown as she listened intently. "I always had well-balanced, hearty meals. She just wasn't a fan of processed food," you said, hoping to provide context and prevent any misconceptions about your mother.

"Sounds... kind of sad," Leah said, finishing her last potato. "I should invite you over for smiley faces, shouldn't I?" she asked with a shy smile.

"You could... I'd gladly accept," you replied.

"I'll think about it," Leah said, shaking her head with a playful grin. After a brief pause, her face suddenly lit up. "Oh, I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?" you asked, intrigued.

"Today, something caught my eye. Well, actually, it's been catching my eye for a while now, but I think I've finally spotted a pattern," Leah explained, narrowing her eyes. "Your chain around your neck... I've seen you tug on it from time to time."

By reflex, your hand went to your neck, and you felt a brief panic when you didn't feel the chain right away, realizing it was hidden beneath your shirt.

"Is it something significant to you?" Leah asked.

"Yes and no. It's kind of silly," you replied, settling into bed and arranging the phone between the pillows. "Sometimes when I'm feeling nervous or a bit anxious, I tug on it to remind myself it's there, but it's not a big deal to me. I started wearing it a few years ago for a silly reason."

You hesitated, thinking you might bore Leah with the details. But seeing her through the screen, now cozy on her couch with a blanket over her legs and a smile on her face, you realized that perhaps this time someone would actually be interested in listening to you.

"I've never been picky," you began to explain. "I never asked my parents for anything special. They always gave me everything I needed, especially when it came to things that could improve my game. But as for gifts, I always felt too embarrassed to ask for certain things." You bit your lip, trying to stay on track with your story. "The thing is, I always wanted a chain. I didn't care much about the material. Everyone at the academy had one, boys and girls. It's a common accessory, after all. I wanted to be like them."

You fell silent, suddenly feeling a bit silly for sharing such trivial details. Leah, however, misinterpreted your silence and blank stare, thinking she had touched on a sensitive subject.

"Did someone special give you the chain you wear?" Leah's gentle voice interrupted your thoughts.

"No," you shook your head, trying to suppress a smile. "I bought it myself. That's why it has my initial on it," you explained, holding the chain up to the camera.

Leah felt conflicted. On one hand, the story ended with a bit of humor, but on the other, there was a hint of sadness. It was the kind of gift typically given by a loved one or partner, and in the end, you had to buy it for yourself… which was a bit sad.

"After I won my first WTA title, I had quite a bit of money, so I went to the first jewelry store I could find and bought it," you explained.

You noticed the puzzled expression on Leah's face; she had gone silent when you expected her to laugh at the end of the story. You smiled nervously, wondering if you were diving too deep into conversations with her.

"Maybe she thinks you're weird," the insecurity echoed in your head.

Just then, a notification popped up on your phone, rescuing you from overthinking.

"Ugh, I've got to go meet Lucas. He wants to work on my serve," you said, standing up quickly with your phone in hand.

"You have a great serve," Leah said without hesitation.

"You're only saying that because you're a fan," you replied, rolling your eyes and trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach that always fluttered when Leah complimented your game.

"Exactly, and I watch every move you make," she said, crossing her arms and wrinkling her nose playfully.

"How adorable," you thought to yourself.

"Tell your coach you don't need any improvement," Leah said.

"He's my coach. I pay him to help me get better," you said as you slipped on your shoes.

"Yeah, whatever," Leah responded with a playful smirk.

"Do you buy the whole love at first sight thing? Ouch!" you winced as your physio applied pressure, stretching your leg into a position that felt tight.

"Take a deep breath," advised your therapist, easing off the pressure. "There you go," she said, gently returning your leg to its natural position.

"It's not something I believe in, in case you're wondering," you said, laying face down on the table and removing your headphones. Conversations during your physio sessions were rare, you typically dozed off, hence the headphones to drown out the noise around you.

"I guess that's not your cup of tea," your physio chuckled softly, now focusing on massaging your calves. "Is she pretty? They say love often comes in through the eyes, especially if it's love at first sight, as you said."

"She's definitely pretty, yeah," you admitted, wincing as your therapist's thumbs applied pressure into your muscles. "Geez, who said these sessions were relaxing?" you muttered, closing your eyes to bear the discomfort. "She's pretty, but it's more than that... I feel like I can talk to her."

"Y/N, you talk with tons of people every day," your therapist reminded you. "Honestly, you never seem to stop talking," she added with a laugh.

"It's different with her. I can talk about anything, even tennis, but there's no pressure... It's like talking to her puts me at ease," you explained.

It was so calming that you had fallen asleep chatting with her the last two nights.

"I shouldn't be catching feelings for someone I'm just getting to know," you sighed.

"Well, actually, it's perfectly normal," your physio reassured you.

You sighed with relief as the tension in your muscles began to ease under her skilled hands. It wasn't a sigh of relief because someone validated your growing feelings for Leah. Definitely not.

"There are times when love hits you fast and hard, you know? When it's intense." the woman explained, now focusing on your back. "And you, my dear, are intense. It wouldn't be surprising if you fell in love just as fast."

"I haven't fallen in love," you protested, attempting to sit up from the table, but your therapist effortlessly kept you pinned down with a swift motion.

"And you're impulsive," she added with a tired sigh, familiar with your reactions. "I'm surprised you haven't declared yourself to her already."

"There is no one," you insisted.

"You've already admitted there's a pretty girl and that you have feelings for her, even if you're not quite sure what those feelings are yet," she teased with a mischievous smile. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have someone special," she suggested, helping you onto your back on the table. "She could be good for you… here" she said, gently touching your heart. "And here," she continued, touching your temple with her finger.

"What are we watching?" Lia asked, settling down next to Leah on the couch. They had planned a dinner date to catch up, but Lia suspected it was more about Leah avoiding another night of cooking.

"There's a match about to start," Leah replied, quickly grabbing the remote from her friend's hands.

Lia glanced at the screen, which now displayed the stats of two tennis players. "Has Wimbledon started already?"

"No," Leah sighed, rolling her eyes. "There are tournaments throughout the year, not just the Grand Slams," she explained, her focus on the screen.

"Since when are you an expert on this?" Lia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's basic knowledge, not all sports revolve around football," Leah defended herself as the players stepped onto the court.

"Is this match a big deal?" 

"It's the quarterfinals," Leah replied.

"How do they win?" Lia inquired further.

"They win by taking two sets." Leah explained, her irritation starting to show.

"And how do they win those sets?" Lia pressed on.

"God, Lia, just watch and you'll figure it out," Leah snapped, feeling her nerves creeping in. She was clearly on edge.

“Why are you so grumpy today?” Lia eyed her suspiciously.

"What's wrong with her? What's she doing?" murmured Leah, leaning back on the couch, her eyes glued to the match on the tv screen.

"Huh?" Lia turned to her.

"She's struggling to reach her shots," Leah pointed out, just as you lost another point. "She had the match in her bag."

It was true. You had started strong, winning the first set 6-1 and even taking a 4-1 lead in the second set. But now, your opponent had fought back, and you found yourself in a 1-6 tiebreaker, unable to secure more than a single point.

"Set point," was announced on the tv, and Leah waved her hand.

You positioned yourself, shifting from side to side, anticipating your opponent's serve. But before you could react, she sent a powerful shot down the line, leaving you with no chance to return it.

"Bloody hell," Leah exclaimed, standing up from the couch.

"Woah, I didn't know you were so into tennis," Lia remarked, intrigued by Leah's intense reaction.

"It just frustrates me when they give away easy points during a match," Leah explained, which was partly true. Your unforced errors had contributed to your opponent's comeback in the set.

Leah let out a long sigh and sank back onto the couch. She couldn't relax until you managed to turn the match around and win the third set tiebreaker 7-4, securing your spot in the semifinals. You had come dangerously close to losing your spot in the semifinals.

Leah couldn't bring herself to try talking to you all day. It had been a dreadful match, one of the worst she had ever seen you play. Despite not knowing you that well, Leah figured you probably needed some space and didn't want to talk to anyone for a while. She had watched you storm off the court after the match, something she had never seen you do before. The heated exchanges with the chair umpire and the tense moments with your coach had been impossible to ignore. 

She had only mustered the courage to send a brief message: 

"Hope you're doing okay." 

But you hadn't responded yet.

So, when she was already tucked up in bed, half asleep, she was surprised to see an incoming video call from you.

"Y/N?" Leah replied, not looking at the screen as she fumbled to switch on her nightstand lamp.

"Shit, I didn't mean to wake you up." you apologized.

"I wasn't quite asleep yet," Leah said, finally turning her attention to the screen. "Are you okay?" she asked, sitting up in bed, noticing your slightly red and puffy eyes.

"Yeah," you lied, settling back on the couch and pulling your blanket up to your neck. "What about you? How was your day?"

"I just watched your match, which was horrible," Leah thought, feeling sorry for you, but instead she replied, "Not much. I just had dinner with some friends."

Leah couldn't help but smile as she saw your features relax at her answer. She knew you had probably anticipated her bringing up the match. You had mentioned how intense your day usually was: tennis talk at breakfast, tennis talk in the afternoon, tennis talk at dinner.

"Nothing too delicious," Leah continued. "Did you have dinner?"

You didn't respond verbally, instead, you shook your head and bit your lip, a sign of your struggle to hold back tears. Leah immediately noticed.

"I was running late and didn't feel like eating alone," you explained. "But my physio brought me a sandwich about half an hour ago. I'm just not hungry."

Leah frowned. She mentally calculated the hours since the match had ended at noon. Considering the disastrous game, you probably hadn't eaten afterward, and your stomach was likely empty except for breakfast.

"You should eat," Leah insisted gently.

"I don't want to eat alone, it's... depressing," you admitted, sinking further into the couch. Leah could barely see your mouth now, the blanket covering you.

"Okay, hold on," Leah said, letting out a sigh as she got out of bed. She placed the phone on her bed and reached for a hoodie. "Come on," she said, picking up her phone again.

You watched through the screen as Leah left her room and headed to her kitchen, leaving the phone on the counter.

"Okay, what kind of sandwich did you get?"

"Huh?"

"I'll eat with you," Leah explained simply, reaching for the bag of bread. "Well?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. It was such a tender gesture, one that softened your heart. Leaning over to the coffee table, you picked up the bag your physio had left there. You hadn't even opened it yet.

"Let me see..." you said, pulling out the sandwich and reading the ingredients on the box. "Tuna, cucumber, mayonnaise, and salad cream."

"Ugh, not my favorite," Leah said, her face visible at the edge of the screen as she looked through her fridge.

"What's your favorite?" you asked, starting to unwrap your sandwich. Suddenly feeling your appetite return.

"I'm a ham and cheese girl. I like to keep it simple," Leah explained, already assembling her own sandwich.

"Sounds boring," you teased with a chuckle. Leah stuck her tongue out at you. "I prefer egg sandwiches. Probably the store didn't have any."

"What else did your physio get you?"

"Uh... a bottle of water and a bottle of juice."

"Orange?" Leah guessed, reaching for a box of orange juice.

"Yes," you confirmed, smiling as you watched Leah return to the couch, settled in just like you with a blanket on her lap. She held up her sandwich to the camera.

"Shall we eat?"

An hour later, you were in bed, with Leah still on the screen, tucked under her own sheets. The time had flown by as Leah passionately tried to convince you why Arsenal was the top club in London.

"Uh, according to Google, the men's team hasn't won a league since 2004," you teased in a mocking tone, enjoying Leah's furrowed brow and her stumbling attempts to defend her team. "And the women's team... maybe I shouldn't say anything," you added innocently, staring up at the ceiling.

"Oi! You're being mean!" Leah protested. "I just won a cup, you know?"

Of course you knew, you had seen the post on Leah’s instagram. 

"Winning a cup isn't quite the same as winning a league," you continued to tease.

"What would you know about it? You only just learned the difference between a cup and a league because I explained it to you," Leah retorted, though she couldn't help but crack a smile. Despite her attempt to feign annoyance, she couldn't shake the sense of relief seeing you in a better mood than an hour ago "You're such a headache sometimes.”

"Sorry," you said between laughs. "Well, I'd better get some sleep. Got an early start tomorrow."

Leah's heart sank at the reminder of your upcoming semifinal match. She knew you had pushed yourself to the limit today, both physically and mentally.

"Thank you," you added, catching Leah off guard.

"Huh?" Leah's brow furrowed in confusion.

"For not bringing that up," you explained, your cheeks tinted with embarrassment. "I really appreciate it... I just needed to talk to someone. And you're easy to talk to."

Leah's heart skipped a beat. 

"It was nothing. You can talk to me anytime, about anything, including that," Leah assured, offering you a warm smile.

You fell silent for a moment, your eyes closed. Leah almost thought you had drifted off to sleep until she heard your voice again.

"I've never won a semifinal match on grass," you confessed. "I hate playing on grass. I can't move like I want to, can't slide, the ball bounces weird... It's a faster game, and I don't like it."

Leah struggled to find the right words to comfort you, though it seemed you weren't seeking comfort. You just needed to vocalize your thoughts.

"Well… get some good rest," you said "Speak to you tomorrow."

"Sleep well," Leah replied softly, just before you disappeared from her screen.

Leah hadn't been able to watch your game; she'd been tied up with a radio interview in the afternoon. Perhaps it was a good thing, sparing her from witnessing what felt like a complete disaster.

You were trailing 1-0 after losing the first set 6-2.

"Y/N, listen up," Lucas's voice echoed in your head as you wiped your face with your towel. He sounded both concerned and frustrated. "You've got to get up to the net. Focus and do it just like we practiced this morning.”

The tension intensified in the second set, now tied at 3-3. Each point intensified, increasing the pressure on your already fatigued body.

Struggling to steady your breath and calm your racing heart, you attempted to regain your composure. Lucas's instructions only seemed to agitate you further. Your serves lacked accuracy and power, the weight of exhaustion settled in your arms and legs.

With your breath hitching, you turned to Lucas "Gotta keep your mouth shut," you muttered to him, before returning to your position on the court.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to shut out your coach's voice which, instead of helping, was only adding to the overwhelming pressure and fear of failure creeping in. 

For a while, you felt completely disconnected from the game, just focusing on getting the ball back over the net and hoping for the best. Your ears felt muffled, you swung at balls in every direction, chasing after them when your legs allowed. It felt like your body was on autopilot.

When you finally regained control, you glanced at the scoreboard. It read 5-4, with the set tied at 30-30. Had you been playing for that long already?

"Just 2 more points and I'm out," you muttered to yourself, accepting the ball from the ball kid who hesitated a moment before returning to her position. Your emotional state must have caught her attention, you could feel tears welling up, but you refused to let them fall now. You couldn't afford to show weakness, not in front of them.

You adjusted your visor lower, not too concerned that it obstructed your view. After all, you were resigned to the inevitable defeat, recovering from this set, let alone the entire match, felt beyond your grasp.

Taking a deep breath, you served. Your opponent effortlessly returned the ball, and when you sent it back, she executed a perfect drop shot with spin. Despite your best efforts, your legs failed to get you to the net before the ball bounced a second time. 

All you could do was shake your head and chuckle at the brilliance of the shot. It was a damn good point.

The next rally was a bit longer. Determined to get at least a point, you decided to take a calculated risk. You placed the ball strategically close to the net, hoping to force your opponent into a difficult position. Yet, she managed to return the ball, forcing you to approach the net. Anticipating her move, you weren't surprised when the ball sailed over your head, landing just inside the line behind you.

And with that, it was over.

"Stay the hell away from me!" you shouted as Lucas and your physio entered the dressing room. You pointed your racket at him. "I don't want to hear a word from you!"

"Y/N, calm down," Lucas said, his brow furrowed in concern.

"I said no! Get out!" Tears streaked down your face, your voice raw with frustration. "You're the reason I lost!" you accused him, venom lacing your words as you vented on your racket, smashing it against the ground. "You told me to charge the net," you seethed, the anger palpable. "And what happens? She pulls off the damn shot of her life!"

Deep down, you knew it wasn't entirely his fault.

Lucas struggled to make out your words through your sobs and the racket's crashing impact. He signaled to your physio to grab your bag of remaining rackets before you decided to destroy another one.

"You need to cool off," your physio interjected, her tone firm.

"I need everyone to leave me the hell alone!" you yelled, throwing the shattered pieces of your racket against the wall in a burst of frustration.

Lucas shook his head and firmly guided you to sit on the bench. "Listen to me," he said,but you shook your head, lost in your thoughts. Frustrated, Lucas removed your visor and tossed it aside to get a clear view of your face, then gently tilted your chin to meet his eyes. "I said listen to me, kiddo."

You met his gaze, holding your breath. He looked visibly upset, his brow furrowed deeper than usual. Taking a moment to study him, you noticed the new wrinkles and more gray hairs, likely a result of the stress you often caused him.

"You played well today," he continued, his voice steady but firm, still holding your gaze. "But she played better. It's not a reflection of your performance, it's not about you playing badly. Can we improve? Absolutely. And we will, I promise you that. But for now, we need to stop."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"You're drained," your physio chimed in. "Your body can't handle more. Your muscles are exhausted."

"And your mind isn't much better. Since the first game you've been clouded," Lucas added, sighing. "We're heading back to England first thing tomorrow."

"Eastbourne?" you asked. 

Lucas shook his head. "No, you won't be playing in any more tournaments until Wimbledon. I've made it clear, you need to stop," he said firmly, now taking a seat beside you. "We're heading to London. Your psychologist is already there."

You had resisted having a psychologist travel with your team for months, but now circumstances were different.

"You'll see the psychologist tomorrow and then you'll rest for a few days. Your rackets are off-limits," your physio said, your bag slung over her shoulder as she tried to lighten the mood. "Seriously, no tennis, not even for fun," she added quickly, when she saw you about to protest. "We'll focus on light gym sessions, nothing more. These are your days off, you'll do anything but tennis."

You nodded, feeling somewhat scolded, almost like a child.

As the tension eased, the reality of a few days off in London began to sink in.

"Leah," you muttered. 

"Huh? Did you say something?" Lucas turned to you when he heard your voice. You hadn't realized you had spoken aloud.

"What time is our flight?"

[think-like-a-poet]

The food challenge

F2! Logan Sargeant x F3! reader x F2! Oscar Piastri

Original video on youtube

"Hello everyone, I'm Y/N, and this is the Prema Formula 2 and 3 food challenge. I'll be feeding my friends Oscar and Logan Sargeant, and they'll have to guess what they're eating without seeing it." You wave and pointed to the two boys standing next to me, and Oscar smiled politely. Logan, on the other hand, looked happy to be here.

"So excited," Oscar said sarcastic and the american just laughed at him.

"Oscar and I both wear blindfolds so we don't see the food." Logan explains as you hand both of them a pair of cat blind folds. The looked quite stupid.

As the boys put on the blindfolds, you grab the aprons that angelina gave you to put on the boys so they don't mess up their team clothing. "How does this work?" you look at it for some time before figuring it out.

handed them each a pair of cat blindfolds. "We'll both be wearing blindfolds so we won't see what we're eating," Logan explained. Oscar nodded in understanding.

You opened the first plate, revealing a plate of marshmallows. You picked one up and brought it to Logan's mouth. "Open up, Logan," You said, and he took a bite. "That's amazing!" he exclaimed, making Oscar and me laugh.

"You have to try and explain to Oscar what it is." you remember him as he takes a second Marshmallow of the fork that you still held into the air.

Logan thought for a moment before responding, "It's white and you held it over a fire." It wasn't hard for Oscar to guess; he immediately replied, "A marshmallow!" I clapped my hands together in excitement. "Yes, one point for Oscar!"

"Can i have another one?" Logan ask, and you just laugh as you put a new one into his mouth.

"I really like marshmallows." he tried to say while he chewed on his candy.

The next plate was opened, revealing a spoonful of licorice. I knew Logan wasn't a fan of licorice, so it took some effort to get him to take a spoonful. His face contorted in disgust as he chewed. "That's disgusting! How can you do that to me?" he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"What is it?" Oscar asked and you look at him with a questioned face, "that is what you are supposed to ques, kangaroo." he just shakes his head at the nickname before Logan starts explaining.

"Italians love it; they have it every morning." However, his description was far off from the actual food.

Oscar guessed again, saying, "Espresso? Coffee beans?" Logan agreed enthusiastically, but I shook my head. "That's not right."

"I have it wrong." Logan asks confused.

"Yes. That is what not having it right means." you show the plate tothe camera, "It was liquorice"

Oscar asked, "How do you confuse that with coffee beans."

Logan shrugged, "It tasted the same."

Now it was Oscar's turn to try and guess. You grabbed the next plate and opened it, revealing a sliced lemon. As Oscar took a bite, his face scrunched up in distaste. "Ugh! Why do I get this one?" He groaned at the sour taste.

"It is sour and-" before Oscar could finish explaining Logan quested, "A sour patch?'

"No. Let me finish my sentence."

"If it was it wouldn't have counted because Osc said half of the word."

Logan just seemed to realised that too.

"It is sour and yellow. It grows on a three,"

"A lemon." Logan exclaimed and Oscar and you agree.

The boys took off their blindfolds and went to stand next to you again.

"This was the Prema food challenge. We hope you like it, I did certain ." You smile and recivied two hand slaps on your arms.

---

Tag list: @hiireadstuff @nikfigueiredo @elliott-calls @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e

[rbfclassy]

STILL IN LOVE! #3 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You anxiously put on your mascara, nervousness building in your chest when your date texted that he was less than five minutes away. It’s been forever since you’ve been on a date, the last one you ever went on was with Toji. You began to grow anxious, a million questions running through your head, self doubt and everything in between. The kids were with Shoko, thankfully she was free for the weekend or else you might’ve had to cancel entirely no thanks to Toji.

You screwed the mascara shut, tossing it back in your makeup bag as you took one last look in the mirror, hands running over your dress to make sure it was flattened out and tight fitting. “Okay.” You took in a deep breath in, trying to calm your nerves. Though all came flooding back once the doorbell rang. “Shit! Okay, okay, be calm,” you spoke to yourself, striding towards the front door, heels hitting the wood below you. You gulped, fingers fidgeting with the lock before you opened the door to finally reveal your date. “Hi!” You smiled.

“Hi…wow,” he looked over your figure, “you look…amazing.” He couldn’t stop staring at you, a small smirk on his face. “These are for you.” He handed you a bouquet of followers.

The smile on your face grew wider as you grabbed the flowers from his hand, sniffing them. “Thank you so much, Nanami.” You averted your gaze towards him. “You look really handsome as well.” It felt like you were back in middle school again, talking to your crush for the first time ever. He wore a black button down, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a pair of classic black slacks. His outfit rightfully complimenting yours. “Please, come in.” You grabbed the empty vase that sat on your countertop, filling it with water and placing the flowers in. “These are beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like them, they were one of the very few left,” he chuckled. He bit the inside of his cheek when you looked over your shoulder and flashed him a smile. He cleared his throat as you walked over to him.

“Well, thank you again. Shall we get going?” You asked, staring up at him through thick lashes.

Your faces were only inches apart as he held the stare, your perfume filling his lungs each time he took a breath. It was quite intoxicating. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to be late.”

It was already an hour into the date, you and Nanami were already making great conversation, finding out that you two had a lot in common. He was a hard working man, but always tried to find time for himself when it was necessary. He had his whole life put together, very obvious from the car you two drove to the restaurant in. He was such a gentleman, opening the car door for you, pull out the chair for you. It had you swooning. He had you swooning.

“How’s your pasta?” He asked, slightly leaning forward on the table.

You covered your mouth as you finished chewing. “It’s amazing!” Your eyes swelled up in joy. “Is this your first time here?” You asked.

“It is! I wanted to take you to somewhere new. I’ve driven by this place a few times and it looked pretty interesting. Glad my instincts are paying off,” he laughed, placing his fork down.

“Well, sir, you have excellent taste.” You smiled at him. “How is your food? It looks delicious.”

“It is! Would you like to try some?” He asked.

“Oh, no, no, please you don’t have to do that.” You shook your head, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“I insist. Come on, I know you want to!” He picked up the crab cake he had ordered, breaking off a piece before placing it on a napkin and handing it to you. “Go on, tell me how good it is.” He watched intently as you ate, waiting for your reaction.

“Oh my gosh! It’s so buttery with a slight sweetness,” you let out a satisfied moan. “I’m jealous, Nanami.” He laughed at how serious your face turned once you finished.

He stared at your smile, finding himself mirroring it. You were very lighthearted and fun to be around, not to mention absolutely gorgeous. He was already starting to think about the second date. “Call me Kento.”

“So, how’s the new girlfriend doing?” Gojo asked as he sat on the couch next to Toji, a beer in his hand. Toji glanced at Gojo before averting his gaze back to the television in front of him.

“She’s fine,” he answered, no emotion in his voice. He took a swig of his beer, letting out a sigh. Gojo poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

“Just fine?” Gojo questioned. “You haven’t told me one thing about her since you two got together.”

“Don’t need to,” Toji bluntly stated. Immediately, Gojo could tell something else was plaguing Toji’s mind. Even with a few beers in his system, Toji wasn’t opening up. He knew exactly what it was. Him and Toji have been good friends for years, it’d be shame if he couldn’t tell what was on his mind.

“Okay, so how’s y/n and the kids?” Gojo raised a brow, staring Toji down. There was silence where there was supposed to be answer. He swore he could see Toji’s jaw clench at the mention of your name. Something happened that Toji didn’t tell him about. “Let me guess, you and y/n had some sort of argument and now you’re being pissy about it cause she was one hundred percent right like always?” Gojo batted his eyelashes, giving a cheeky smile.

“Shut the hell up, Gojo,” Toji warned, putting the beer bottle to his lips and taking a big gulp.

“Ah, so I’m right.” There was smug smile on his face as leaned back into the couch. “What is it this time? Did she finally find someone else?” Toji sucked in a breath before exhaling, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Gojo let out an audible gasp, “she did, didn’t she? Holy shit.”

“I don’t know for sure, but we got into an argument about me not taking the kids this weekend, she asked if it was because of yoko and I told her it wasn’t her business and that she was jealous. Then, she told me she had plans, but wouldn’t say with who. So…yeah. You happy?” Toji turned his head towards the white haired man beside him.

Gojo let out a small giggle, before stopping himself. “I’m sorry, you called the mother of your children jealous of your new girlfriend because she asked why you couldn’t take your children? What an asshole you are.” Gojo slowly nodded his head, brows raised in amusement.

“I get it, Gojo. Shut the hell up.” Toji had a firm grip on the beer bottle in his hand, afraid that if he squeezed it any harder, it’d shatter.

“Don’t get me wrong, Yoko is cute and all, but y/n,” Gojo let out a whistle, “y/n is where it’s at. She’s dealt with your ass for eight years, birthed two kids, and is hot as hell..I’d take her over Yoko any day. I see why you couldn’t stay away from her.”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Toji glared at Gojo, using what restraint he had not to punch his friends teeth in.

“Just saying.” Gojo shrugged.

Toji’s phone began to ring, quickly grabbing it to see that Shoko was calling. His brows furrowed before he got up from the couch and answered it. “Hello?”

“Yo, Toji, your kids wanted to say goodnight,” Shoko stuffed some ice cream in her mouth, ready to hand the phone off to Megumi, but Toji spoke before anything.

“My kids? You’re the one babysitting my kids? Where’s y/n? Is she there?” Toji leaned against the kitchen counter, brows still knitted together.

“Jeez, you’re full of questions. Yes, I’m watching your kids, and y/n is…on a very, very nice date. Anyway, here are your children,” said with a chipper tone.

Megumi grabbed the phone from Shoko, putting it up to his ear. “Hi, dad, I just wanted to say goodnight. Naya already fell asleep.”

“Hi, buddy, goodnight to you too. Tell your sister I said goodnight if she wakes up, okay?” Toji spoke, placing his beer on top of the counter. He was trying to avoid sounding upset, the information Shoko just told him had his blood boiling.

“I will. I love you, bye!” Megumi quickly hung up the phone before Toji could even respond, leaving his father standing in silence.

The cold night breeze blew past your exposed legs as you walked up to your front door with Nanami, his hand holding yours as he helped you up the steps, making sure you didn’t trip in your heels. “Thank you so much, Kento. I had a great time with you,” you said with a smile, avoiding his gaze.

“I had a great time with you too. Must I say, once again, you look really beautiful tonight. I know you must be tired of hearing me say it, but I can’t help myself.” You took notice of how his eyes scanning over your body, focusing on the tight dress that you wore.

“Trust me, I could listen to you compliment me all night.” It was sort of bold of you to say such a thing, but with the way this man was flirting with you since the moment he laid eyes on you, it was only fair.

“Oh yeah?” His broad body grew closer to you, closing in the small distance. “Maybe we can do that on the second date then?”

You found the courage to look him in his eyes, not daring to pull away, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “I was thinking the same thing,” you responded.

“Good, glad we’re on the same page. Same time next weekend, better be ready.” A smirk tugged at his plush lips.

“Don’t worry, I will. Goodnight, Kento.” You leaned forward, placing a small kiss on his cheek. His hand slipped from yours as you pulled away, unlocking your front door and walking inside.

“Goodnight, y/n.” He took one last good look at you, taking in your smile before shutting the door. Nanami stood on your porch for a while, hands in his pockets, biting down on his bottom lip. He turned to walk down the steps only to stop himself, looking back at your door. Without thinking, he knocked on it.

You opened the door. “Oh, did I forget something?”

“Forgive me.” He cupped your face, planting his lips on yours, a feverish kiss shared between your two. His tongue ran over your bottom lip, gently biting on it. “I couldn’t resist,” he pants.

You were taken by surprise, but still kissed him back. Deep down, you were hoping this would happen. All night the tension was so thick that you could cut with a knife. The way he’d look at you, undressing you with his eyes, only for you to be doing the same. His hands ran up under your dress, squeezing at your thighs. You pulled away from the kiss to speak, “I was waiting all night for you to do this.”

“Yeah, sweetheart? Better not disappoint you then.” His hands ran up your thighs and to your ass, pushing you against the front door. Your hands tangled in his blonde locks as he left wet kisses down your neck. “You looked so good all night I was finding it hard to contain myself,” he admitted. He pushed his hips against yours, allowing you to feel the bulge forming in his pants.

“Just fuck me already,” you moaned. The wetness pooling in your panties was obvious, your cunt throbbing.

“Where?” He quickly asked.

“Anywhere,” you breathily replied.

“Anywhere?” He questioned.

“Anywhere.” You nodded. All while Nanami was stripping you of your dress, you were blissfully unaware of your phone vibrating in your purse for the third time in under two minutes.

“She’s not answering the fucking phone.” Toji tossed his phone on the counter, Gojo standing there with his arms crossed in amusement.

“She’s probably getting the best fuck of her life. Leave her be, she deserves it.” Gojo pushed his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose.

“If you say one more thing, I’m gonna kill you,” Toji threatened. Gojo loved to piss Toji off, especially when he rightfully deserved it. And in this case, he did. “I’m gonna go over there.”

“Don’t go over there! You annoy her enough!” Gojo easily snatched the keys from Toji’s hands. “Wait until tomorrow, okay? Let the woman enjoy her night, she doesn’t need you ruining it.” He stuffed the keys in his pocket.

“Fuck off.” Toji grabbed his beer, chugging it like it was water. He had no right to be jealous, but he couldn’t deny these feeling brewing in his chest. The thought of someone else seeing you like he has, learning your body the way he has, treating you the way you deserved to be treated, and treating his kids with respect, he fucking hated it. He sounded like such an asshole, but deep down a part of you was always his.

“I bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be too happy to hear you still care so much about your ex wife getting fucked.” He stared at Toji through his glasses.

“Yeah, well, surprise, she’s not really a girlfriend. I was just seeing her,” he explained.

“Like fuck buddies?” Gojo questioned. Toji answered with a nod. “Interesting that you choose your fuck buddy over your ex wife. Now look at you, lonely and jealous.” Gojo walked off back into the living room.

“You’re insufferable,” Toji muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. He’ll let you enjoy your night, but he was definitely going to have a talk with you tomorrow morning whether you liked it or not.

series masterlist

tag list (comment to be added):

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[moonlight-prose]

since you kindly offered this brilliant piece I have a thot for you. giving logan nasty nasty head as he’s trying to eat dinner 🤭

note: i sat with this for several hours after we hung up and i could not get it out of my head. he's a munch. we know this. it's a fact (disney grow some balls and say it outloud). but my god is he a whore for some good head. give him sloppy toppy and he's wrapped around your finger; he's yours, ready to put a ring on it and drag you to the courthouse himself.

Dinner is a quiet affair in the Howlett household. It's mixed with soft conversation and intimate jokes. Comments about your days, hands held over the table as candle wax dripped over the yellowed cloth. It's warm - domestic.

But on nights when adrenaline ran a bit too high and wine began to drip heat down your spine, you found that you couldn't resist the pull of him.

He sat in his usual chair, legs spread and eyes tracking your movements as you left the kitchen. A bottle of wine in one hand, his whiskey in the other.

His grin is soft. A docile man who'd been tamed by the lover he never expected. And you can feel the heat begin to curl around your stomach. Tugging on the nerves that thrummed beneath your skin. He'd never realize how far gone you were for him; how every move and choice depended on whether or not he'd smile your way.

"Smells good sweetheart." His voice is low, the grit of husk behind each lilted drawl.

You could feel warmth flicker to life beneath the supple skin of your cheeks as his gaze continued to track how you sat in your chair. Eyes dragging down the figure clad a t-shirt that had seen better days and jeans with a gaping hole in the knee.

There was no denying you dressed for comfort. Logan still felt his cock stiffen at the sight of you in dark washed denim though.

The smile is pulled from the depths of your chest. "I couldn't decide what to make."

You know you sound flustered. You know your voice is higher than normal.

You know he caught it by the sharp glint of his teeth poking through an already crooked smile.

"I'll eat anythin' you make," he admits with a soft clack of his fork tapping his plate.

The double meaning isn't lost on you. In fact it shoots a hole right through your chest, floods your body with that syrupy thick heat that you feel drip down to the tips of your fingers. His nostrils flare - eyes glancing down to the table that covers your lap - before he's filling his mouth with food.

Honestly you can't even recall how it happened. The entire ordeal a hazy cloud of lust that had you slipping out of your seat, and dropping to your knees beneath the table. His eyes went wide as your hands pushed at his legs, forcing them to spread. And when he made no move to stop you, the rest clicked into place with ease.

Logan smells of his cigar he smoked after work. He smells of spice and the musk of sweat and leather from his jackets that hung in the hall closet.

He is everything you could possibly want in a husband. Everything you asked for checked off with a flourished hand and a welcomed smile.

"Baby what-" He chokes on his food when your hands undo his belt, the button of his jeans, and pull him free with a choked whine. "Oh fuck."

That. That's what you were looking for after a day filled with his absence. The stifled moan at the back of his throat when your tongue licked up his cock - whining when the taste of him burst across your taste buds. You couldn't deny yourself him when he let you suck on the head, spit trailing down your chin and into his lap.

His hand moves to cup the back of your neck, fingers tightening around his fork, and it isn't until you've got him halfway down your throat does he understand what you want.

The clink of metal scratching porcelain sends heat down your spine. He moans around a mouthful of food as your head bobs, mouth sucking him in deeper, further, until he hits the back of your throat and makes you gag.

"You're fuckin' filthy for me aren't ya," he mutters, thumb rubbing into your skin. "Makin' me eat while you get dinner of your own."

Your eyes roll back, pussy clenching down hard around nothing. Because fuck he's right. You'd stay on your knees until pain flared up. You'd keep him down your throat until you lost the ability to speak.

You'd suck him dry morning, noon, and night to hear the noises that slipped past his lips.

"'M gonna give you want ya want baby," he grunts.

His hips rock up off the chair, hand pushing your head down further until your nose was buried in the dark hair tinged with the musky scent of him. It's wet and messy and spit has formed into globs that roll down the expanse of your throat.

You're so far gone all you can do is give a choked moan, body trembling as your lungs screamed for air.

That's the fucked up part though. You'd die on his cock if it meant getting to please him.

He cums with a harsh snap of your name, chest heaving and plate long forgotten. Shudders roll down your spine, slick pooling between your thighs as he spurts down your throat. Spilling out the sides of your mouth.

"Eat your dinner sweetheart so I can have some fuckin' desert."

[theglitterypages]

Self Control

Katsuki knows that self control is not something he is good at, he has a hot temper and he rarely speak without a scowl or shout. But it's not the worst example of his lack of self control.

He was silently sat in his office as he spins the phone in his hand like a fidget spinner, contemplating whether he should give in to his greed or try to not give away himself but after a couple of minutes debating with himself, he decided to give in to his selfish need.

He pressed dial and it wasn't long until somebody picks up.

"Kacchan? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Katsuki held the phone tightly against his ear, his heart beating fast out of anticipation. "Where are you?" he asked with a low growl, trying to act normal, right, this is how he is with everyone right? Not soft, but tough. "Oh I'm on my way to your office now, I brought us lunch." Katsuki's eyes widened when you suddenly came in holding two lunch boxes in your hand with a grin.

He ended the call and rolled his eyes as he walks toward you, taking the lunch boxes away from you. "You're my secretary, not my personal cook. We could've just ordered or somethin'." he clicked his tongue, sitting down at the couch while you settle down beside him with a soft chuckle, ignoring the rough attitude.

"Oh come on, we both know it's not healthy. Plus, I also bought some lunch to Ni-chan, I figured I'd give you something too." you told him, giving him a spoon and fork so he could start digging in.

Katsuki finds himself watching you as you took your first bite, so, you went to see your brother. Now, that is what he needed exactly to remind himself why he needs to chill and practice self control. "How's Izuku?" he asked, trying to distract himself from the way your knees brushed against each other, since when did his couch in the office got so tiny? He couldn't properly savor the meal you cooked because your whole existence is making his senses go haywire, did you change your shampoo? And why is your hair put up? Why is your neckline exposed like that? Why is it that-

"Kacchan?"

Katsuki jerked out of his thoughts when you snapped your fingers in front of his face, "What?" he didn't mean to say it a little harshly but he saw that you were taken aback, you withdrew your hands away from his face with a defeated sigh, as if burnt by a raging hot fire. "N-Nothing, I'm sorry. Just call me if you need something." you immediately clean after yourself and exit his office while Katsuki groaned out of frustration, noticing the tears threatening to fall in your eyes but he couldn't do anything to stop you from leaving his office.

"Fucking hell." he buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream.

He didn't mean that, no, but he had to do his best to try and put up an act. This is him trying to control himself, he needs to get back to his senses, he should've know that it's a bad idea for him to hire you as his secretary, but no, he gave in to his own desire to keep you close and now it's becoming his own torture.

He can't bring himself to pursue you, no, he can't do that to Izuku, or maybe it's not really the bro code that he's being wary of, maybe it's your rejection that he's running away from. Because why would you even want anything to do with him? He knew that Izuku has forgiven him for all of the things they went through as children but what about you? What if you're still seeing him as your big brother's bully?

He banged his head on the table, he needs distraction, or else he'd storm out of this office to find you to just hold you tightly in his arms and never let go.

You were teary eyed when you left Katsuki's office, did you do anything wrong? You thought you two are becoming closer, but how come he's all snappy again? Well you always knew how unpredictable his mood is, but a part of you hoped that Katsuki would care to not snap at you the way he does with everybody else.

"YN?"

You looked up and saw Shoto looking down at you worriedly, "Hey…" you greeted, hoping that he won't noticed the dried tears on your cheeks, but when you felt his thumbs wiped your cheeks, you knew that you failed to hide your sadness with your fake smile.

Shoto looked around, "Is he mean today?" he asked, gently patting your head before pulling you in for a hug. You shook your head and held onto his shirt. "J-Just the usual…I'm just being a little sensitive today, I guess." you told him and Shoto gently rubbed your back.

"You should've worked with me." he joked, trying to lighten up the mood and you pulled away from him with a chuckle, "I should've…I was just too stubborn." Shoto sighs, well, he's not one to understand this kins of sacrifice, but he tries, and he sees how much you want to work with Katsuki to stay close and support him, and he knows exactly why. "Mina's having a party tonight, come with me, the girls can probably help you with this." you smiled at Shoto and hugged him tightly, you know that he's awkward, but since he knows your real feelings for Katsuki he tries to ease your struggles by just listening and you're thankful for that.

"Thanks, Sho."

Shoto smiled. "I can't do much so I think you'll be better to find someone who can relate since all I can do is listen." he pat your head once again and looked at the closed door of Katsuki's office, "I'll talk to your boss now." you just nodded and sat back down on your seat, scrolling through your phone to send a text message to Mina and the others to inform them that you'll be at the party tonight.

"EHHH?!"

The girls had the same reaction when you told them about your feelings for Katsuki, none of you can speak for a few minutes all of the girls are trying to find reasons as to why you've fallen in love with Bakugo Katsuki. Ochaco was the first one to break the silence, her fingers on her chin as she looks at you with a surprised look. "You know, I used to think you'd fall for Todoroki-kun rather than Bakugo-kun." she told you as before she closed Mina's wide open mouth.

Momo nodded in acknowledgement, recalling the times where you and Katsuki would often scream at each other while you were all sweet and calm with Shoto, for years of being your friends, the girls genuinely believed that it will be you and Shoto. "And you guys are pretty close aren't you? In fact there were rumours that you were dating." you sighed, you are seen with Shoto in public a lot of times, but it was because he gives an effort to try and distract you from your inner struggles because of your feelings for Katsuki.

"Ehhh, what a shame, we thought you guys came together here to announce your relationship officially or something."

Momo giggled and then others followed, "Oh come on guys, you're forgetting my real issue." you groaned as you took another shot of tequila. You were well aware of the attention that you get when you hang out with Shoto but you never knew that the girls actually thought that you are together. It was frustrating, really if you were being honest, Shoto was the man of your dreams, the typical prince that you used to dream of marrying as a kid but reality is far from princess, knights, and castles. And in this reality your heart is not stolen by a prince but a raging man disguised as a dragon.

"I mean this could actually help." Mina comforted you as the other girls squeezed you with their hugs, whispering sweet nothings to make you feel better.

"We'll make sure that we'll find out if he likes your if he's still a jerk after all these years."

With all honesty you were just hoping that they'd listen to you, it's not like you want to do anything to let him know about your feelings, especially that your friendship and his friendship with your brother will be at risk but you forgot how enthusiastic Mina is when playing the matchmaker and now you're scared of whatever she was planning next and so the next thing you knew, Mina dragged Shoto towards you with a smirk that could only mean embarassment or trouble for you.

"Kirishima is on the way with Bakugo why don't you guys wait for them here in the couch together?" Shoto was forced to sit down beside you and you looked at the other girls silently begging for help. Shoto on the other hand is just drinking quietly, having no idea of Mina's scheme.

Kirishima went through hell just to convince Katsuki to come and join the party, "I've got morning patrol you shitty fuck." the blond complained as they arrived but despite his death glares and never ending curses, Kirishima didn't let himself given for he was more scared of getting beat up by Mina if he won't succeed in bringing Katsuki in for tonight's party.

"Just loosen up will 'ya?!" Kirishima made his way through the crowd, dragging the complaining Katsuki with him but the blond froze midway, making the red head turn towards him. "Come on, dude. We're already here! It's too late to back down!" Kirishima pulled his friend but Katsuki was still staring at something or maybe someone…

When Kirishima followed Katsuki's gaze, he can now fully understand why the blond was frozen in his place. Even with the flashing lights and the crowded place, he was able to see what Katsuki was looking at.

Shoto was slow dancing with you, his hands on your waist, while your hands were wrapped around his nape. Faces close to each other, forehead and nose tips almost touching, it looks so intimate.

Katsuki could feel his world crumble at that moment, and he wanted to run as far as he could but he couldn't especially when he heard Mina's enthusiastic voice yelling for him and Kirishima. The red head looked at him apologetically, "Sorry dude. I didn't know they'd be here." Katsuki said nothing and went straight to grab a drink but even as he settled down on the couch nearby, his eyes was still fixed on you and Shoto.

His eyes scanned how you seem to be so relaxed in Shoto's touches and in his arms, for fucks sake you were even smiling, and he feels like in your world, there's no place for him, no place for Katsuki because everything is reserved and dedicated for Shoto. He let the bitter taste of the alcohol as it travele down his throat, his stomach filled with something warm, his temperature rising as he watches you and Shoto even more.

It reminds him of what happened earlier, if he didn't put on an act of keeping you at arm's length, will it change anything? Is he gonna be the one to hold you tight while Shoto is the one downing drinks the way he does right now? For some reason, his eyes sting, is it because of the burning sensation traveling up his throat? Damn, he should've known he'll never be able to have you, he could only settle for this, keeping his distance because why the hell would you even look at his way when you have the perfect man in front of you?

Shoto on the other hand could feel someone drilling holes at the back of his head with their glare alone and he already knew who it was without looking. Honestly, he's not a fan of the plan that Mina told him, but he decided to go with it, after seeing how you look so defeated. As someone who witnessed your secret admiration for Katsuki for years, this is the least he could do for you.

"Am I doing this right?" he asked innocently, afraid that he might step on you or something. You giggled at him and nodded, "You're a little awkward but you got the spirit." you joked and Shoto chuckled, a very rare moment that even you rarely witness. "Oh wait, is that a chuckle?" Shoto just shook his head, going back to his usual stoic expression.

"Can you see him?" he asked, looking down at you. "No, you're kinda too tall for me to look over your shoulder." Shoto thought for a moment, he ponders whether he should do it or not, a part of him knows that if his observations were right, he coud either help you or he might end up with some serious injury but he figures if it's for his friend's happiness maybe he should try his best to show Katsuki what he might lose if he'll turn a blind eye on your feelings for him.

"I'll lift you and take a quick look."

"Wait what?!"

It was late, Shoto lifted you off the ground by your waist to let you up in the air for a quick moment so you can observe Katsuki behind him and your eyes widened when you met his gaze as you gripped on Shoto's shoulder tightly.

Mina and the other girls were shocked of how far Shoto played his part in this plan, and when they turned to look at Katsuki's reaction, it was an enough testament of his true feelings, especially when the blond placed his glass harshly on the table, almost crushing it before making his way towards you and Shoto.

You didn't even have time to think when Shoto put you down, because before you could even look at your friend, Katsuki's hands immediately snatched you away from Shoto and he dragged you away from the group.

Katsuki was cursing in his head, why did he let his temper get the better of him again? He should've just left without dragging you, now he's standing in front of you and he couldn't even utter a word as to why he snatched you away from Shoto. Fuck there's no escaping this now, no dumb alibi can sound reasonable after he straight up snatched you from Shoto like a kid upset that his favorite toy is held by someone else.

Self control. Control. Control.

It wasn't enough for him to chant it in his head, because before he could even try to do something logical or reasonable his body gave in and he let his head rest on your shoulder before wrapping his arms on your waist, inhaling your scent, letting his mind and his soul etch your scent an the warm feeling of your skin against his, if this is the last time that he'll get to touch you like this, he needs something to hold on to for his own sanity.

"Please…." he whispered weakly almost begging. He doesn't know what he was begging for, but he's at the end of his wits, he's left with no further layers to strip down, no more masks to wear, because everything that he is lays bare in front of you, his whole existence is at the palm of your hand, he feels tiny, and so vulnerable, he would've fallen down on his knees if you didn't place your hand on his back.

As you let your hands rest on his back, you felt him shaking, and when you heard him sniffing as you felt something wet on your shoulder you just realized that Katsuki was crying.

"K-Kacchan?" you called, not knowing what's happening. He stayed silent, just holding on to you as if somebody will take you away from him as he let his tears roll down his cheeks then onto your shoulders.

"Please…don't be in love with someone else." he whispered quietly, his hands around you holding you tighter, as if his own sanity depends on it. "I'm sorry…but please…choose me." Katsuki knows that this was pathetic, in fact this was the lowest that he thinks he could go, for someone like him to just break down like this, he knew he's at his wits end, he's been fighting himself for these feelings for years, in fact he couldn't even remember how long it's been but tonight is the last straw, if he hides this from you any longer he could burst into flames and be consumed by his own love for you.

He couldn't bear to see your sparkling eyes fixed on someone else, he couldn't see your delicate hand held by another, he couldn't bear hearing you laugh because of someone else, he wants all of it to be his, he wants to be the one to make you smile, to make you laugh, to be the one to hold you in his arms, to be looked at by your sparkling eyes, and he'll go crazy if all of this will be someone else's.

Your eyes widened when his voice broke, your arms automatically wrapped themselves around him, hugging him back.

"I've chosen you long ago, Kacchan. It's always been you."

Katsuki pulled away a little but his protective arms still around you, "B-but you and Shoto…" you shook your head and wiped away the tears rolling down his cheeks, his ruby eyes glazed with tears threatening to fall once more.

"Oh come on, if I like Shoto I would be working with him and not stuck with your grumpy ass." you told him with a glare and Katsuki was frozen for a moment before he hugged you tightly, his face buried on your neck, "I love you…always have, and always will." he confessed, dropping the tough guy mask he's been wearing around you for years, who cares about self control? If his heart wants you, why should he restrict himself from wanting you?

"Can I kiss you?"

"D-Dumbass you can't just ask and just expect me to---"

Katsuki cupped your face and gently pressed his lips on yours, it wasn't long till one of his hands found your waist once more to pull you closer, he gently nipped on your lower lip, earning a sigh from you before he pulls back, breathless.

"Can I hear you say it?" he asked, a part of him afraid that this is just a dream and he needs to hear you say it or else he'll believe that he's going insane.

"I love you." you chuckled before standing on your tip toes to press another quick kiss on his lips.

[pumpkin-bats]

Bitter and Sweet - Mihawk x Reader

a/n: Genuinely was expecting Buggy to win over Mihawk, but the poll has decided! I hope you all enjoy!

summary: You happened to wake up before him and decided to make breakfast for you both.

contains: sfw topics, brief mention of potentially more intimate relationship, gender neutral terms for reader, fluff.

wc: 900 +

You couldn't shake the sensation of eyes trailing after your every movement as you drifted about the kitchen. The attention sat so heavily on your shoulders that, at least twice, you nearly burnt your hand trying to make a pot of coffee. Even the briefest glance over your shoulder was met with a swirling gold, urging you to hastily look away or else you’d be pinned in place.

It wasn't uncomfortable or violating in any way. You knew what it felt like when those eyes held suggestive intentions and this wasn't it. Although, whatever this was didn’t make it any less overwhelming.

There was... something more to it.

Mihawk habitually made breakfast for the both of you every morning. As far as you knew, the main reason he did it was because you had a bad habit of waking up late. He surprised you the first time with a full breakfast spread and the tradition stuck. You were grateful, but at the same time you’d felt guilty for receiving so much from him all the time.

So, on the one day you managed to wake up before him, you decided to take care of breakfast instead. This way you could return at least a little bit of the effort he put in for you every morning. And if you could get a surprised reaction out of him, it would set your day on a really cheery path that was worth the dishes you’d have to clean up shortly after.

Breakfast wasn’t anything too complicated. A simple plate of eggs and bacon with a cup of straight, black coffee for him and something similar for you. You figured a red wine enjoyer like Mihawk would be the type to want a bit of cream or sugar in his coffee, but you've never seen him add anything to it before. And the one taste he let you have a while ago proved to be quite the bitter concoction.

Once everything was all set you turned to face him, armed with the meal, and immediately faltered in your steps.

Mihawk sat at his usual spot, legs crossed and chin perched atop his hands from where his elbows rested against the table. Without his hat, there were no shadows being cast over his eyes and you were able to get a clear view of his face. But the way he looked up at you in that moment felt like staring at two beads of golden light gleaming from the darkness. 

There's a deep intensity in that gaze, made even worse by the way he's posed. Nothing about it was sexual, but your heart hiccuped on a beat regardless. This wasn’t exactly the ‘surprised’ reaction you were looking for.

It took a second to force yourself to move, clearing your throat as you step forward, setting his plate and mug in front of him.

"Breakfast is ready." Your voice trembled minutely from nerves as you got your own plate and sat down across from him.

You sink the prongs of your fork into the eggs. You were actually pretty proud of how they turned out, expecting them to taste blander than they did. After the first bite was halfway chewed, you glanced up at Mihawk. He hadn't made much of a move, still staring intently at you which made a wave of anxiety bubble up your chest.

"What? What is it?" You put your fork down to face him head on with your full attention. "Why are you staring at me?"

"You made breakfast," he stated plainly. You'd be confused, even irritated, if not for the way that sentence seemed to be charged with something deep enough to be felt in your gut.

"I... did. Is that bad?" you asked, raising a brow at him.

He shook his head and finally moved from his poised position. Mihawk leaned against the backrest of his chair, picking up his utensils to cut into the eggs.

"Not at all. It’s quite sweet of you," he said, pausing to savor the bite he took. "Delicious."

You refused to acknowledge the way your face burned at his words. Instead, you returned your focus to your own plate, eating a bit more yourself before the butterflies starting to take flight in your stomach got too distracting.

"Not- not really… You always make breakfast for me. I just figured that I'd do it for you for once, since I was awake earlier and had the chance to," you explained, though it sounded more like rambling as you fought to keep your eyes away from him.

Your attempt failed at the sound of a soft hum, chancing a glance up at him.

"You, who cherishes your mornings, took the time to make this for me.” As he spoke, he brought the coffee you made him up to his lips. “I'll admit, I was quite enchanted watching you. So much grace in even the simplest movements. And with the way that little curl at the back of your head is sitting, it looks like you didn't even take much time for yourself before doing this."

He looked at you from over the rim of his mug, taking a slow, measured sip.

"How sweet you are to me, indeed."

You were lucky that you'd already swallowed the bite you took or you'd be choking on it right now. There was no added smile, just one last, lingering gaze before he took another sip of coffee and continued to eat his breakfast.

The effort it took you to return to your breakfast, with the way you knew your face was painted a deep scarlett, was monumental. You swallowed thickly and momentarily wondered if you'd even be able to finish eating after that.

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.  

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask? 

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows. 

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere. 

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny. 

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”  

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?  

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said. 

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.    

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.  

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind. 

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.” 

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.” 

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him. 

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.   

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either. 

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called. 

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear. 

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said. 

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick. 

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail. 

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep. 

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[skipper1331]

Which sister? // Alexia Putellas

a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it:)

"Are you even listening?" Mapi asked her best friend who was watching you with googly eyes.

Alexias heart fluttered at the sight in front of her, you. Her eyes roamed over your figure, mesmerizing every detail, you were stunning. For her, it didn‘t matter If you were all dressed up, in joggers or in the training gear - you were the most beautiful girl in the world. Yet she had to admit, seeing you in the Barça kit made her heart skip a beat, skin tingle.

"Huh?"

"stop drooling and listen to me" the defender told her stern, Alexias hand flying to her mouth to wip it - no drool. "Gosh Ale," Mapi laughed, "that was meant metaphorically" the girl glared at her friend, sighing in defeat. La reinas crush on you was more than obvious to everyone but you. She held the door open for you, braided your hair every time, drove you almost everywhere around, she would even carry you if you were too exhausted to walk on your own.

She got it really bad, you just smiled at her across the pitch on your first day in Barcelona and then she knew it straight away. She didn't know you yet, but she knew it, she knew that she would fall headfirst in love with you.

And she did.

Over time, Alexia and you became great friends, hung out all the time and she even introduced you to her family. Her mother and sister were two of the friendliest people you had ever met, Alba maybe more flirty but still kind though.

Her mother spoke highly of you, about your good manners, your helpful and humorous nature - she liked you. At some point your status changed: you were no longer a friend and teammate of her oldest daughter but her third daughter.

-

Thursday evening - family dinner.

After weeks of Mapi trying to convince Ale to ask you out, they agreed to the deal that the midfielder would at least tell her family. So again weeks later, Alexia finally built the courage, for the first time ever, to say out loud that she was in love with you.

The conversation was floating by while Alexia held back. She was quiet most of the time, occasionally adding a humm or some phrase. She was so lost in her thoughts, thinking about the best way to admit that she like-liked you that it just bubbled out of her.

"I‘m in love with Y/n"

Alba choked on her food, dropping the fork as she stared with an open mouth at her sister, "what?!"

Eli with a big smile on her face, looked at Alexia, she always had a feeling that you were not just a friend to her - not with the way she looked at you, the hearts that arose in her eyes at every mention of your name.

"You can‘t like her!" her sister spat angrily. There was a wrinkle between la reinas brows as they furrowed, "¿por que?"

"Because I like her!"

Alexia was taken back - when did that happen? The Putellas sisters glared at each other, Eli‘s words falling to death ears. "Well then the fight is on. Let‘s see which sister she wants" the younger girl stated as she stood up, leaning on her arms to intimidate her sister. "Fight? She’s not a trophy to fight for!" The midfielder herself now stood up, also leaning on the table. The tension was thick, holes burning in to the head of each other, "as If you haven‘t gone after every trophy" Alba replied, refering to the numerous trophies Alexia had fought for. "Alba, say one more time she‘s a trophy and I‘ll smack you!"

That was the moment Eli disputed, her fist hitting the table, shutting up both of her daughters. "You," Eli looked at Alba before she pointed to the living room "this way". The younger girl grumbled under her breath as she stomped out, the mother turning to her other child "Kitchen"

"No mamá"

Alexia was mad, she didn‘t know If she was mad because her sister liked you too or because she refered to you as a trophy or If she was scared that Alba would win this fight.

In defeat, the midfielder slumped back on her chair, head resting in her hands. She needed a minute.

Calmed down, Ale looked at her mother with the most heart broken eyes yet not saying anything. The girl walked towards the living room, her mum close behind. Alba was sitting on the couch, arms crossed as she glared at the black screen of the tv. "Alba," her sister said in a firm voice, stubbornly she didn't turn around, her gaze fixed on switched off television, Alexia continued anyway, "I won‘t fight you. If you want her, ask her" confused, Alba turned to face the Barça player, why would she give up a fight? She‘d always fight for everything. "Just- just promise me to treat her right, okay?" The only thing Alexia did fight was against her tears in that moment.

She left straight after, not giving one of them the chance to say something.

She wouldn't fight against her sister, not when it involved something so important - you. She would rather have her own heart broken than to see you sad or miss out the chance of happiness with her sister. She loved you and Alba too much for that.

The happiness of her family and you will always be her first priority - no matter what.

-

Alexia avoided you. The sparkle in her eyes was missing - you were missing. When she talked to you, she held her answers short, partner drills she did with someone else and she would even avoid to look at you - her favorite sight.

In your eyes, she was a changed woman. A few days ago, everything was perfectly fine; the two of you joked around, she gave you a lift home but now? it was as If you were strangers.

It wasn't like you to confront her straight away, maybe she just had a bad day or week and needed some distance, some space. You weren't a confrontational person anyways, situations like that just stressed you out and triggered your anxiety.

You gave her the space you thought she wanted while she secretly hoped you would talk to her - the change in her mood and behaviour noticeable for everyone in the team.

In the meantime her sister shot her shot.

Alba

hola

wanna hang out later?

Weird. The younger Putellas had never asked you to hang out before, at least not without Ale.

Not thinking too much about it you agreed, the girl suggesting to met up at the little café, the three of you visited often.

Later that afternoon, you walked to the café which wasn‘t far from your home, wearing casual clothers. Subconsciously, you hoped that Ale would be there too and when you just saw Alba sitting at your regular table, your heart hurt a little. "hi" you greeted with a smile though, the younger girl giving you a longer hug than usually. "How have you been?" she asked, "you look really pretty by the way" she added, what was going on here?

The whole time you felt uncomfortable with the way she flirted with you or would touch your arm and hand. Something seemed to be different compared to the last times.

Each time something flirtatious came you would change the subject - Ale always being the new topic. It annoyed Alba while it made you smile, happy and calm. Alexia was your safe space and happy place.

Alba slowly began to realize that she never stood a chance. It had always been Alexia and you. The way your eyes lit up when you mentioned Alexias name, the way your smile would reach the corner of your eyes - why didn't she realize that much sooner? The connection the two of you had was deeper and more meaningful than anything she had ever seen before. So while Alba only had a crush on you, Ale loved you.

And clearly, you loved her.

Guilt crept though her body as she understood what pain she caused, Alexia not returning their mothers calls, your calls and her own calls.

She understood the pain in the midfielders eyes the day she made her promise to treat you right.

"I think i have some explaining to do, y/n"

-

"Ale! Open the door!" you banged against her front door rapidly and firmly, your hand hurting from the force behind each knock. She was already in her sleeping outfit as she opened the door like she always did when you knocked. You looked out of breath, sweaty and face all red. "Did you just run here?" the Barcelona captain asked as she supported you to the way to the living room, placing you on the couch as she brought you a glass of water. "So?" she asked again, looking at you with the eyes she had when she was speaking to the team as their captain. You could only nod as you drowned the water, about to pass out. From the café to Ales home was a long way but you had to see her. As soon as Alba explained everything, you ran out of the café, leaving the younger Putellas by herself. Thinking back, it was a bad idea and you should‘ve listened to Alba as she offered to drive you.

"Tell me, what do you need?" Alexia said in a soft voice as she took a seat next to you, wiping the hair out of your face, "probably a shower" you replied yawning.

"Let‘s go" the girl lifted you up, carrying you like a child to the bathroom as your legs were wrapped around her waist, your head on her shoulder and her arms under your legs to support you. She placed you on the counter next to the sink, slowly starting to take your hair out of the plait and comb it, "i‘m going to get you some clothes" quickly, she took some random shorts and an oversized out her wardrobe before returning to you. "Here" she laid the clothes down, "take your time, i‘ll be waiting"

Stepping in to the shower, you let the hot water run over your shoulders down to your feet as your body started to relax. Taking your time but still showering rather quickly, you washed your hair and body. The smell of Alexia - her shampoo - filled the room, it smelled like home.

Ale was laying in her bed while she waited for you, many questions running through her mind. Why did you run to her home? Why did you knock on to her door like something happened? What happened?

As she heard the door of her bedroom open she sat up, leaning on her elbows, you looked cute in her clothes.

You had stayed over before many times, always wearing her clothes yet every time it made her heart flutter and cheeks blush. Alexia scooted aside as she patted on the free side of the bed. Join her. Making your way over, you flopped on the mattress, an exhausted sigh leaving your throat as you got more comfortable in Alexias bed. Both of you stared at the ceiling, neither of you saying a word. "Why did you run here? Where did you run from? What happened?" The questions bubbled out of her as she turned to you, your chest rising and falling in a normal pace. "Ran here from the café. I had to see you"

"From the café?!"

You hummed in agreement, "Alba asked me"

Ale‘s whole body tensed as she inhaled sharply. Did Alba ask-asked you? What did you mean? What did she ask you exactly? "You didn‘t tell me you had a fight with her"

it was your turn to face her, your arm supporting your head. She froze with fear. What was happening? "what are you talking about?" she wanted to play clueless but you knew better. You knew her and you knew now what happened at the family dinner, you knew everything. "Keyword: trophy"

"Don‘t" she whispered, laying on her back again, staring at the ceiling. Trophy, you were everything but a trophy to her, she didn‘t want to win you, she wanted you, to be with you. With a quick adjustment of your posture, you were at her side, leaning over her, to look at her. Her eyes were so beautiful. "You know, If I was a trophy-"

"You‘re not!" her voice was loud and clear, your heart melting while you ignored her statement to continue, "you would win me" her eyes grew wide, a shy smile covering her face as her cheeks burnt red, "Ale," your thumb traced along her jawline before your hand rested on her neck, "there was never the question: which sister. It's always been you, Ale, always" relief washed over the spaniards body, it was the confirmation she had to hear so dearly. Her hands cupped your cheeks, thumb caressing your them. "God, you‘re so beautiful" her eyes were full of hearts, her heart racing as her body was on fire, "I‘m so in love with you"

An upside down smile was written over your face as you got all shy under her compliment, confession and intense (yet loving) stare. You closed your eyes, slowly leaning down, her hands not pulling you in any way, it was all you. The midfielder watched every movement, only closing her eyes when she finally felt your lips against her own.

Sweet.

Your lips tasted sweet. She had often imagined the taste of your lips but wow they felt like heaven.

Even when the question arose: which sister? For you there had only ever been one answer, one sister, Alexia. The girl you fell in love with the moment you saw her tripping over her own feet on your first day in Barcelona.

—————————

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

A Type Of Love

Minors Do Not Interact

Feyd x reader

Just a little idea of what Feyd would be like during an arranged marriage and once his wife got pregnant.

Warnings: cannibalism, canon typical violence, typical Harkonnen culture, Feyd is his own warning

His mother once told him, at five years old as he sat in her lap, watching the sun set over the horison, "Don't love anyone but your children. Anyone you love will be used against you, limit you, and make you lesser."

Feyd had looked at his mother, curious. "Well, shouldn't I not love my children then?"

His mother chuckled, kissing the top of his head. "I'm afraid that's not an option for people like us, son. I'm afraid you will have no choice whether or not you love your child."

Feyd didn't realize at the time that the reason his mother took great pains to raise him to be so fundamentally different from other Harkonnens was to ensure that when he sired the chosen one, he wouldn't smother him in his crib. The deep sense of honor his uncle couldn't break him of, even as he was forced to kill his mother, was all a tactic by centuries of Bene Gesserit plotting to ensure their messiah figure was safe.

Feyd took his mother's lessons to heart, even when his memories of her tore at what little heart he had left. When he was assigned a wife by his uncle, he made sure he didn't get attached to her. He did his required duty, visiting her twice a week in her quarters until she fell pregnant. Once she informed him she was with child, he stopped visiting her. He spent his free time with his concubines, the only women he let himself be fond of. Even then, the fondness was that one would have for a pet, not a lover. They were content with that arrangement, as he did spoil them beyond reasonable limits.

His wife seemed to be content with him ignoring her. Yet even without his help, she managed to weasel her way into his uncle's council. She had somehow made an ally of Rabban, giving him advice on everything from women, to dealing with Fremen.

He tolerated it… until she started showing. Once her stomach swelled with his child, he could stand it no longer. He forbid her from speaking to Rabban. He basically confined her to her quarters, and when she complained about feeling imprisoned, he took her hand and lovingly walked her down to the slave pits. He held her still, forcing her to look upon the miserable wretches in the cells. "Still feel imprisoned, my wife? Or have you found a new fondness for your grand room?"

She stiffly nodded, tears silently flowing down her face. He feasted on them, lapping at her face until the tears stopped flowing. She clung to his arm the whole walk back to her rooms, and something foreign and wholly unwelcome began to take root in his wretched heart. Fondness.

As her stomach grew, so to did his new emotions. He found himself unable to stay away from her, spending his nights in her room more often than not. He insisted she dine with him for every meal, and began pressuring her to try a new type of meat. He teased her with the idea of eating the flesh of his kills, assuring her that any heir of his would only grow stronger from it.

She looked sick anytime he brought it up, but to her credit didn't flinch when he snapped one day, killing a slave in front of her and slicing his gut open. "Pick your preference, my wife. Liver? Lung? A chunk of thigh?"

His wife met his gaze, her voice firm and strong when she answered. "The heart."

He carved it out himself, handing it off to a trembling servant who brought it back some time later, perfectly roasted and seasoned.

He stared, his eyes fixed to her face as she calmly cut into the flesh he had provided for her, and delicately raised her fork to her lips. The thin cut of meat passed over her lips and her eyes fluttered shut as she tasted it. She took a liking to it, if her fast eating was anything to go by. Soon her plate was clean, and Feyd felt nearly feral with desire as she delicately dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

Her eyes were warm and soft with adoration as she looked at his cold blue eyes. "Thank you, my husband."

The deeply rooted fondness he had been unable to rip out began blossoming into something far more dangerous. May the stars comfort his mother's weary soul, because it seemed he wouldn't be able to obey her lessons.

[shirefantasies]

Hello, may I please request fem reader x Elrond? With reader that is quite avoidant when it comes to touch, but accepts hugs and kisses from Elrond? I hope it is okay 👉👈 thank you so much in advance, have a wonderful day 💕💕💕💕

Yes, sorry this took so long but here we are! Hope you enjoy how this came to me, a one-shot featuring a third party POV as well as ‘yours’ 😊

The Steel Lady of Imladris- Elrond x F!Elf!Reader

It was known to the surrounding lands that in the Last Homely House one might be surprised by whom they meet; the lord of the land, after all, had a lady by his side, one whose presence was said to carry the chill of a harsh wind with her presence. Resolute as her home's walls, she cut quite the contrast to the hearths always said to be awaiting visitors of the fair valley. Perhaps she was even a witch like the one dwelling in the woods of Lórien.

Such were the rumors swirling in the mind of Rivendell's dwarven visitor, called there as he was to offer his people's wise council. Ha! What was it that had those pointy-ears finally asking for their help Gimli did not know, but happy was he to attend with his father at his side.

Riding in with his kin, he took in sailing white arches and a very well-constructed bridge, hearing his father mutter all the while about how nothing had changed. He had stopped there once before some sixty years ago, after all, during the dragon incident.

A whole gaggle of elves awaited there, some armored but most just decked out in their pretty finery, one clad in white emerging from the center with a deep blue-clad figure upon his arm. Long, elaborately twisted strands of dark hair hung onto his raiment and a circlet of silver crossed his forehead. Likewise, the woman at his side had what hair she could done with equal finesse, a matching headpiece, and a dress more closely tailored than the lord's robes. Elrond and his consort, the so-called Steel Lady of Imladris.

Sure enough, fair as you were your face was resolute as you stepped forward, practical even as you curtsied, surrendering the smallest of smiles. Ready for a fight as he was, Gimli wasn’t sure he’d want to take you on. At least, not without the proper head start and all.

You flinched as Gloin clapped a hand to your back, stepping forward in utter avoidance of his touch. Disrespectful though it may have seemed, you equally avoided one of your elven fellows’ advances. Gimli shook his head. Cold as they came.

~

Alright, fine, maybe this wing of the place was a little confusing. He still could figure it out for himself. One more corridor and it would be golden-

“Trouble yourself not, My Lady.”

Tilting his head, Gimli took a few steps forward, was availed the sight of Lord Elrond…holding you at the elbows, pulling you closer? The sound of… you giggling?

He’d turned away, but that sound along had Gimli swiveling around the corner again. Your head tilted and leaned onto the dark-haired elf’s shoulder. A smile cut further across your face as his lips fell to the crown of your head.

“You needn’t spend any more time in the crowds than you must. It was simply right to have you at my side for greetings.”

“I like being at your side, though,” you whispered, peeling your head from Elrond’s chest to kiss him once, twice, and far more lingering.

All right, that was enough. Off to bed. Gimli turned, trying the other fork in the hall with a faint smile playing upon his lips. Steel Lady indeed.

~

“Greetings, Madam.”

Frowning slightly, you turned to see if your eyes had deceived you; they had not- one of the visiting dwarves removed his helmet in your presence, giving you a jolly little bow.

Generally you were…unsuccessful, shall you say… with guests. Aversion to touch had bloomed from the harsh experiences of your past life, making trust a challenge. No bearing upon their race or character, but outsiders posed a threat. Disrupting routines, bringing louder, brasher customs. Viewing you as either held in thrall to their impositions or else some myth beyond their metaphorical touch.

Elrond was the anchor in your vast sea of anxiety, the only one who saw through story, perceived emotion seemingly unexpressed. Displayed hope and kindness abundant as the cleanest of springs.

But now stood a dwarf of all people fixing you with earnest hazel eyes. Understanding. What should you do?

A smile shook its way to your lips. “Good morning,” you chose a customary greeting. Standard, safe.

“Aye,” the dwarf nodded, “it is, isn’t it? Well, I know you elves like to keep time, so I'll be off to breakfast before there is none. Tell me your favorite and I will save you some if I can."

Stranger or not, you were sure anyone could have read the shock upon your face. Shaking it quickly aside, you kept your face neutral as you named it and gave a thanks. As the dwarf went on his way, he bid you his final farewell by your title, yes, but also your name. They didn't usually use your name.

Light footsteps rang out behind you, barely perceptible even by your sensitive ears. "And what was that about, hm?" Elrond.

Tension melted from your shoulders as the curious little quirk of your lips burst into a wide smile. Turning on your heels, you slid your arms about your husband's waist, relaxing when his hand caressed the top of your head.

"The dwarf," you answered, "he was so kind. Not in that rough way so often seen, but...genuine. Caring. Like he wanted to see me smile. Could someone have challenged him?"

You feel your husband's head shake. "How many times must I remind you," he teased, "of the light that lies in your eyes? That which reaches deepest into the heart. Surely he felt no challenge than that. Indeed, I would say he simply sees you as I do."

Heart thumping, you loosened your grip on Elrond to meet his lips in a loving kiss, safe in the warmth of his words and his hold upon you. Bit by bit he encouraged you to be brave, never leaving you adrift for long, you reflected as he took your hand, bidding you lead the way to the greater halls at your ready.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

[handumb]

shhhh..

~ shigaraki x f!reader

summary: you had been exceptionally dry towards your boyfriend this past week, and he couldn’t get the reason out of you over text, no matter how hard he tried. So he figured he’d pay you a little visit! :)

additional tags: reader has strict parents, eventual smut, forced to be quiet, established relationship, teasing, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, using panties as a gag, slight aftercare, no quirk au

a/n: this is my first time writing publicly on this account, so please feel free to leave tips or suggestions for me <3

word count: ~2.7k

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Family dinner was something that was obligatory in your household; it had been since the dawn of time. Unless you weren’t home, you had no excuse to not be sat at your dining room table with your parents. That leaves you where you are now, picking at your plate as you sit in uncomfortable silence with your mom and dad. You knew the reason why they were refraining from breaking the silence, in turn understanding that they were going to avoid the subject all together.

“So, when can I talk to my boyfriend again?” Your tone was slightly annoyed, as you placed your fork down on your plate and looked up across the table. You met your mother’s eyes, which looked to her husband, and back to you. She let out a sigh as she also set down her fork, bringing her napkin to the corner of her mouth.

“You know the answer. He’s bad for you, and we will not allow you two to see each other any longer,” she stated simply. She was right, you knew the answer, but you couldn’t stand being forced to be so distant with him. It killed you to not maintain the same personality with him online, let alone not seeing him for the past week and a half. You looked to your dad, but he avoided your gaze, not being one for confrontation. “What your mother said, sweetheart.”

You scoffed, throwing your hands up and letting them fall to your sides. “That’s not fair, it’s my life,” you said, hating that they thought they could control you like this. “No, it’s our life, and it will be for as long as you live under this roof. If you want to be independent, you can move out!” Your mother raised her voice, displaying her usual short temper. “You don’t get it, you don’t even care enough to meet him,” you retorted, propping your elbows up on the table and swinging your hands around as you spoke, as if it helped prove your point.

“Honey, please, just try to see it from our perspective,” your dad started, turning to face you. “You sneak around with him, he’s been in the custody of the police more than once, he doesn’t do good in school, the list goes on. He doesn’t seem to have a good influence on you. We’re doing this because we love you.” You looked at your dad in disbelief. Of course they used that excuse, it’s their favorite one to abuse.

“You will stop seeing each other, and that’s final.” Your mom stated with no room for arguing otherwise. Feeling your blood rush to your face, you made the executive decision to stand up from the table, and reside in your room, not wanting to say anything that would provoke further punishment from the both of them. “If you loved me, you would let me live my life however I damn well pleased. Fucking god.” The words left your lips as a soft curse as you stormed down the hall and toward your bedroom door. Opening it revealed a surprise that you definitely weren’t expecting.

There laid your boyfriend, Tomura, lazily on your bed, fiddling with some little trinket that was supposed to be on your desk. The sound of your door opening snapped him out of whatever he was doing, and he smiled, really it was more of a smirk, and got up off the bed to greet you.

“Hey sweet thing.” He cooed out. Your eyes were wide and your feet were frozen, not expecting him to literally be in your room.

You shut the door swiftly, and held your hands out in front of you, motioning for him to stop and explain himself. “How? Why??” You could barely get out before realizing your parents could probably still hear you. Before he even started talking, you put a finger to your lips, signaling him to be quiet. You walked past him, finding something to turn on as noise to drown you two out. You landed on just turning on your fan.

The fan ran for a second before you interrogated him on what he was doing here. “What are you doing? How did you get in?” You were right in front of him, whisper-yelling your inquiries at him. He started walking closer to you, closing the gap between your bodies. You stepped back, until you reached your bed. You sat on it and looked up at him, waiting for his answer.

“Well, your window was unlocked, and I wanted to see why you’ve been ignoring me.” He stated with ease, a slight grin and a shrug of his shoulders accompanying his words. You sigh and furrow your eyebrows, upset at yourself. You didn’t want to break the news like this, but you figured you had no other choice. You were mentally beating yourself up for what you were about to say.

“Tomura.. I think we have to.. uhm- stop seeing.. each other.” The words left your mouth with so much hesitation, dripping in sadness. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, holding your gaze in your lap. Your head felt heavy as you tried to compose yourself, knowing he wouldn’t react well to the news.

You didn’t hear anything for a good while after you spoke, deciding to look to see what he was thinking. Except, you don’t see a different expression from what he was sporting earlier. He still had the shit-eating grin that was plastered on his face when you first saw him. “That’s cute, angel.” He rasped out, grasping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He crawled to you on the bed, forcing you to lie down as he positioned himself on top of you, trapping you. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

He leaned down to kiss you, holding the side of your face with one of his hands. You matched his movements, bringing your hands up to either side of his head. You were lost in the feeling, missing this for the last week or so. You wanted it to be slow, in case this was actually the last time you saw him. He slowly prodded your lips with his tongue, asking for permission to be let in. You granted it happily, parting your lips as you felt your breathing slowly become heavier.

He leaned down, pressing himself more into you as an effect, and finally broke the kiss. The catching of breath was all that was heard between the two of you. He just smiled with half lidded eyes before dipping down to your jawline, eventually kissing his way down to your neck. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling at his locks and tangling themselves in it. That’s when you realized that your parents were, in fact, still home. Most likely just down the hall from the both of you.

You panicked, trying to push Tomura’s face away from the warmth of your neck so that you wouldn’t get caught. “Wait, no, my parents are still home, I can’t-” You were cut off, your breath hitching, Tomura not budging as he continued his attack on your neck. “T-Tomura, I can’t, not now-“

“Yes, now,” he breathed out, finding a spot on your collarbone to sink his teeth into. He sucked on the spot afterwards, allowing as close to instant relief as he could, before dragging his tongue along it painfully slow. This elicited soft whimpers from your throat, foiling your plan of trying not to let too much noise slip. Sure, the fan helped with blocking it out, but it could only do so much before your parents got suspicious.

You eventually gave in, not being able to resist him with any bone in your body. He kissed down your collarbone, and made his way to your chest. He slid his hands up the shirt that was covering one of his favorite features about you, slowly raising it above your head and discarding it off to the side. He had a twinkle of something in his eyes, and licked his lips, before kissing and sucking all over your chest. His lips lingered on your nipple, sucking at it harshly, before bringing one of his free hands up to the other, making sure it didn’t feel neglected.

“So beautiful, all for me.” He said, making it increasingly harder to stay quiet, and you were very sure he knew that. You looked down at him, the sight one to remember, while soft moans were slipping past your lips. You bit your tongue in hopes of it helping cease the noises. He met your gaze, grinning.

Once he was done marking and biting your chest, he made his way down to your most intimate area. He started fiddling with the waistband of your underwear, looking up at you while he did so. You looked down at him with pleading eyes, practically begging him not to do what he was about to. “No! Are you crazy? Do you want me to get caught?” You whisper to him, squirming. He only laughed softly in response before slowly pulling them down your legs; past your mid thighs, then your knees, then all the way down to your ankles, before wadding them up and shoving them into your mouth.

“I guess you’ll just have to be quiet then, princess,” he teased, honing in on his target, “I bet you can manage.” His tongue stuck out, licking up your slit, then going to focus on your clit. You moaned into your panties, the sensation euphoric. God, you missed this. You couldn’t fathom how you went without him for as long as you had.

He wrapped his lips around your sensitive nub, lapping the rest of your pussy generously with his tongue. You tried to stay quiet, you really did, but you couldn’t help how euphoric it felt. You continued moaning, fighting back as much as you could manage. You were squirming in his grip, either trying to break free from his hands or trying to grind against his face; you weren’t sure which you were attempting. All that washed over you was an intense amount of pleasure, urging you to reach a hand up to one of your tits, fondling it and tugging at your nipple.

Your breath became labored, the rise and fall of your chest attracting Tomura’s eyes as he looked up at the beautiful sight: you with your legs spread wide just for him, moaning out what he assumed was a mix of curses and his name as he made you feel heavenly. He took it one step further.

“Look at me,” he pulled away, waiting for you to meet his gaze, “look at me as I fuck you with my fingers.” He said, slowly inserting his fingers into your core, feeling your gummy insides squeeze around his digits. You lulled your head back against your pillow, the combination forcing you closer to your climax.

That was until the sound of knocking at your door interrupted the two of you, the room falling almost completely silent as one of your parents made their presence known. “Honey?” Your dad called out, talking through the door. You sat up as much as you could, not knowing what to do. Your eyes darted between Tomura and your door, frozen.

“I.. I wanted to apologize for earlier.” He was lingering outside of your door. Tomura had a devilish grin on his face, slowly starting his movements up again. You looked down at him, seeing him slowly bring a finger up to his lips with a small “shh” emitting from them, dipping back down into your cunt, and thrusting his fingers in and out of you. You squealed softly into your underwear, trying especially hard not to make any noise now that your dad was outside of your door.

“You know how mom can be sometimes, she just needs some downtime,” he continued, wildly unaware of what was going on just on the other side of the wood barrier between the two of you. You felt yourself slowly climb back up the steep hill of pleasure, your boyfriend's movements only getting more intense as he makes it his mission to get you to cum. You looked down at him, pleading eyes begging him to slow down, or at least make it easier for her to keep quiet. But, to no avail as he kept up his pace with his fingers, matching it with his tongue as he focused on your sweet spots.

“We can go out tomorrow, just the two of us? I bet it’ll make you feel better, sweetheart,” he said. You squirmed, softly moaning, waiting for your dad to leave. You could feel yourself nearing the edge, wiggling your hips as you tried to force yourself into your orgasm. To your dad, you were just giving him the silent treatment, so he took that as his cue to retire back to his room. “Okay, goodnight honey,” your dad said, before leaving again.

Tomura rasped out a small laugh, before urging you on. “Come on, angel, you can do it. You’re doing so good.” He whispered in between your thighs, hitting the spots that make you see stars over and over, finally pushing you over the edge. You looked down at him one more time, before coming undone. You felt him hum in satisfaction as he tasted your orgasm, forcing you to ride it out until you were begging for him to take it easy on you. Your hand found refuge in his scalp, tangling themselves in the nest of light blue locks.

With one last lap of his tongue around your cunt, he pulled away, a smile plastered on his face as he licked his fingers clean. Your face was slightly flushed as you smiled back at him, your chest rhythmically rising and falling. He crawled on top of you, wrapping his arms around your body. You started massaging his scalp with one of your hands, and rubbed his back with the other. You heard him mumble out, “Are you actually going to follow through? With the thing you brought up earlier?” You heard his tone; he sounded defeated.

You cup his face in your hands, turning it to face your own. “Of course not. My parents have been on me about it, and I didn’t know what else to do.” You looked away for a moment, then back at him. “But, that’s not to say that I won’t still ignore you, seeing this is what happens when I do,” you teased, a smirk on your face. Tomura scoffed, shaking his head and laying it back down on your chest.

After a long, silent moment, Tomura propped himself up. “I think I should go. Your parents will kill both of us if they found out I was here,” he said, moving towards the window to open it up again. “Aww, please, stay just a little longer.. Please?” You pleaded, sitting up and following him out of bed covering yourself with a nearby blanket. He turned to face you, hands moving from the window to your face. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back. You can count on that,” he said, half of his face illuminated by the dim light of the moon. He leaned down, your lips interlocking with his one last time, before he turned to escape through the window.

“Wait!” You called out to him, leaning out the window. He turned to meet you, pulling his hood up. “Uhm- text me when you get home. Maybe I can sneak off to see you next time,” you said, a small dust of pink on your cheeks as you spoke. You heard him let out a small laugh as he nodded up to you, running off into the night, leaving you up in your room for the rest of the time being.

[mj-iza-writer]

Requested by @electrons2006 , I hope you enjoy

"Whumpee come here", Whumper called as they sat at the table for breakfast.

Whumpee hurried into the room.

"Yes Master", they bowed to the floor.

"I remember asking for two pancakes along with the eggs and sausage", Whumper glared, "why do I have three?"

"Oh, uh", Whumpee cautiously looked at the plate, "I made too much batter, please forgive my mistake this morning."

"Are you sure you weren't making an extra one for yourself to eat secretly and you chickened out?", Whumper's glare deepened, "or maybe hoping this would be a morning I would let you have my leftovers."

"No Master, I just made a mistake in measuring the ingredients. I-I'm sorry", Whumpee gulped, "please punish me so I remember."

"You'd like that wouldn't you? Let me do all of the work", Whumper looked around the room, "you enjoy me punishing you."

"No, this morning you'll punish yourself, and I will watch", Whumper started to eat, "be creative... entertain me", they talked with their mouth full."

"Yes Master", Whumpee stood and looked around the room.

They noticed their shock collar sitting on the table.

"M-may I use this Master?", Whumpee held it up, "will this please you?"

"I don't care", Whumper sighed.

Whumpee looked it over and realized they were too dumb to figure out how to put it on the way Master did. Then they realized they didn't know how to turn it on either.

"Click it on", Whumper instructed, "here give it to me, I'd rather you didn't know how to turn it on and off", Whumper turned it on and handed it back to Whumpee.

"Thankyou Master", Whumpee bowed their head.

Whumpee took the remote and made sure it was turned to a high setting.

They held the prongs to their throat and pressed the button.

"Ymph", Whumpee groaned as they stiffened. They fell to the ground.

Whumpee looked up to Whumper for approval.

"You're trying but you need to try harder", Whumper sighed.

"Yes Master", Whumpee looked at the prongs.

They stuck their tongue out and rested it on the prongs. This was bound to at least get a chuckle from Master.

Whumpee squealed as their tongue was shocked.

Whumpee noticed a slight grin from Whumper.

'One more and I may have pleased them enough', Whumpee told themself.

The looked over their body to see where next to shock themself. They looked over their old burn from when Whumper branded and claimed them as their own property.

'They know it hurts terribly when that gets shocked', Whumpee thought as they lowered it to their scar. Their lip quivered a little as their finger hovered over the button.

Whumpee screamed as the current went through their scar.

They weakly looked up to Whumper.

"Do you think that is enough of a punishment to suffice this mornings mistake?", Whumper frowned.

Whumpee couldn't tell if Whumper was seriously asking them or if they were being sarcastic.

"Master, forgive me, I don't know", Whumpee looked at the collar. The stress of pleasing Whumper was overwhelming.

"Ymhmm", Whumper continued to eat without saying another word.

Whumpee stayed on the floor. They were about to start crying when Whumper stood.

"You may finish eating my leftover scraps", Whumper started to walk away, "thankyou for making breakfast."

Whumpee watched in shocked disbelief. Did they really just receive praise.

They hurried to the plate. Three bites of sausage, a fork full of eggs, and half a pancake were left.

"Master left me a lot today, and they praised me", Whumpee excitedly started to eat.

"Whumpee, I'm heading to work", "Whumper called from the door.

Whumpee hurried to them and knelt down, "please have a safe day and come back home safely", they leaned in and kissed their Master's boot goodbye.

"You have a good day as well", Whumper grinned.

Whumpee almost melted to the floor while Whumper closed the door.

"They like me again", Whumpee whispered as they lay on the floor, "they really like me, and I almost messed up everything this morning. They could have had a bad day because of me."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311@whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves

[ghouldtime]

A small drabble based on this post https://www.tumblr.com/ghouldtime/762071216041426944/who-was-going-to-tell-me-that-captain-john-price?source=share

The flames flickering atop the small, chocolate birthday cake plopped square on Captain John Price's would've made for a picture perfect commemorative scene and a heartwarming gesture, if it weren't for two glaring things.

It wasn't his birthday

The two waxy numbers that stood in the middle said 55

John Price was a man of many things and facets held underneath his Captain title: A top SAS Agent, a decorated hero who had more enough ribbons and metals to fill a wall, a driven man and leader who earned his rank tooth and nail, a man who displayed that title and his accomplishments proudly. What he most certainly was not was 55.

The smatterings of a few silver hairs woven into his brown locks surely weren't that bad.

"MacTavish." He spoke as he shifted back into the leather desk chair, the well-worn bearing creaking in protest.

The sergeant's congratulatory smile shifted into a confused furrow of his brows and a small frown as he reluctantly shifted forwards. The lack of his callsign or even his first name immediately had the younger man on edge, listening to his captain.

"Aye, sir?" He spoke, his brows lowered further as he wracked his brain to figure out what he did wrong.

Captain Price's gaze found his for a long, few moments as he remained silent. The steady tick-tick-tick of the old clock mounted to the wall cut through the otherwise pressing silence that spoke louder than any yelling ever could have.

Folding his hands over his lap, he regarded him with a blank expression. His attention briefly flickered over to Gaz who stood right behind him, the slight confusion if not innocence to this deed mirrored Soap's expression.

"Is that how old you think I am?"

Soap blinked once, twice, and then seemed even more confused. The perpetuality of being a FNG (Fucking New Guy) hasn't waned over the months, apparently. He still very clearly had much left to learn.

"Well, that's what Ghost said." He answered almost meekly after a few seconds, the thick brogue that lilted his words seeming even thicker, trying drastically to avoid any answer that could end up with him scrubbing the bathroom floors with a toothbrush yet again.

Go figure, that sardonic bastard.

He should've expected it. No one else could've thoroughly convinced them that he was ready for the retirement home with a straight face like Ghost.

A sigh escaped his lips as he brought a weathered hand up to his face, running it down until it rested on his bearded chin. Covering his mouth, he stared at the flickering candles that mockingly stood, melting more and more into the cake as their form slowly ebbed away.

Serves them right, those infernal waxy devils didn't deserve to exist in his presence.

He didn't want to think about those numbers existing for quite a few more years - if he was lucky enough to even make it to then.

Blowing out the candles without much fanfare, he plucked them off and placed them to the side. He'd carve them into a 38 later and stuff them under the lieutenants pillow, full of frosting and all.

They're lucky that today he felt nice enough save the gentle lecture about not believing Ghost, no matter how serious he sounded, when it came to things like this later. For now, the pressing matter of getting rid of the cake stood at higher priority.

But before he could pick up a fork and knife, he took up a pen and wrote in his personal agenda.

Note to self: convince everyone that Ghost is 56.

[suguru-getos]

| bad day? | hawks x reader | fluff/smut/comfort |

-> summary: returning home feeling shitty could only last so long in the presence of takami keigo | warnings: oral (f-receiving), fluff, soft kei 🪽🥰

ever since the clock ticked 5 pm for you, every single cell in your body ranted & whined about being at home. the idol chit-chat, the not-do-idol tasks in hand. people at work who you called your friends, people at work who you’d rather stab yourself than associate with; both, equally… were getting insufferable. it wasn’t anybody’s fault really. that you were getting annoyed by someone’s pace of walking… then again, it was not your fault either.

there are certain times your brain hits the ‘fuck this’ mark. where nothing could subdue the feeling of being broken apart by nothing & everything at once. today was one of those dreading times. your senses were dancing on the brink of actual craze, your head haywired from the information overload. nothing could soothe you.

still… you persisted, waited for your working hours which lasted longer than the most boring conundrum ever.

the icing on the cake was the heavy traffic on your way home. you could swear after taking a painkiller for your migraine that greeted you spitefully, you’d be better. nope — the buzz of the city followed with how claustrophobic and sensitive you felt were only exaggerating the pain in your skull & eyeballs. the pain of a thousand needles piercing your skin.

“fucking hell when will this bloody end god damn it!” you muttered to yourself, waiting impatiently with your index finger tapping on the steering wheel as the atmosphere overwhelmed you even further.

there was however… only one thought that your mind held, which was soothing. a stark contrast with the day you’ve had so damn far. takami keigo. you can’t wait to see him, your mind wants the imagination of you being couped up in his wings to be real — asap!

your reflexes, your body, your soul knew he is your reset. you know keigo would make it better. the perks of it were — he’d actually make everything better without even trying. it’s just his presence that pets you into a solemn place.

after zoning out several times, you managed to reach your shared apartment. hands shivering with gathered tiredness as you unlocked the door and let yourself inside. your bag dropping as your familiar feline companion, keigo’s and yours not so menacing & astoundingly mannerful cat came and greeted you.

unlike your normal, after-work interactions, you couldn’t make a conversation with him just yet, petting him & cooing at him before leaving to the kitchen for something — anything to fill your devilishly hungry stomach with.

without wasting much time, you took out the perfectly sliced fruits from the fridge, forking their way into your empty stomach when you heard the balcony door open. your autopilot mode turning off immediately as you perked up.

“kei? that’s you?”

a familiar, baritone voice echoed from your bedroom. “who else has the balls to enter our bedroom sweetheart,”

you smiled, humming & indulging in your so called dinner. before you heard another question from your man. “y’er okay?”

you blinked, doubtfulness and curiosity as to how keigo can figure you out just like that— immediately quenched when you saw a stray red plume caress your jaw.

“m’ not okay, i had a shitty day & it’s nobody’s fault.” you answered, “i’ve got a headache and i just feel very overstimulated & sensory overloaded y’know?”

ironically, the only thing you heard next was the sound of keigo’s boots approaching you to the drawing room couch. gloved hands tilting your chin up to make eye-contact with his golden pupils, a soft, friendly & familiar smile greeting you. “is that so, baby?”

you looked up, doe-eyed and awestruck at your man. you could never, ever get used to him. him in his hero costume— him as hawks~ then again, you still can’t get used to him as keigo either. he’s just so amazing…

“yeah” being daring enough, you leaned against his chest, feeling the lub-dub of his heartbeat while he tugged one of his gloves off with his teeth, visor neatly pulled up on his blonde waves, taking the other glove off and letting his wings falter to the ground like drapes. “aww — c’mere pretty.”

keigo hugged you, running his hands through your hair and kissing the crown of your head.

“the world’s being especially annoying and a pain in the ass to my girl huh?”

you could sense by the tone of his voice that he was slowly letting his familiarity sink into you. as if he was slowly calling you back from the hell you’ve resided in today.

“mm~ yeah,” you managed to reply, curtly. only because — your mind had already started fading off into bliss the moment you saw your mate, your lover around you.

“i know what could help-” keigo suggested, sounding ultra sincere & exceptionally sure of the sudden idea which had plagued his mind. you gazed back at him with eyes which were complying already.

“let me tend to my girl.” keigo announced, kneeling in front of you, two of his feathers doing the quick work of spreading your legs after keigo quickly tugged your shorts and panties off.

it’s an abomination how flushed you become — being with him since three years, whenever keigo gets his way with you. a deep exhale you didn’t know you held, left frantically from your heaving chest when you saw him pay no mind to any teasing & latch his lips directly at your clit, kissing it softly.

“fuck-” you gasped, looking down at keigo who’s eyes were stern in their determination to prolong their stare with yours.

“yeah, fuck, you’re so delicious baby—” keigo copied your tone, leaning in and swirling his tongue around your clit, spreading your pussy lips apart with his thumbs & latching onto your cunt hungrily. keigo loves to play with his food — normally, he’d tease you by kissing around your cunt, giving hickeys all over your inner thighs, have you soaking wet & desperate for him. not today.

your pleasure was starting to build, it felt like all your emotions though bad, were aiding into it tremendously, melting away, withering away until all that remained was a coil in your pelvis eager to snap.

“fuck— keigo- baby, ah! wanna-” you managed to contort broken sentences, writhing beneath the vigor of keigo’s love, keigo’s torture on you.

“y’ wanna cum baby? my pretty girl wants to cum f’ me?” keigo asked you back, smirking at how frantic & impatiently you bobbed your head in a nod.

“go ahead, i’ve got you sweetie — cum for me.”

as if the gates to a dam had opened, you screamed out, letting go for keigo and spasming beneath him, whining for him. the emotions you held within fading off, releasing into the prickling tears that made your cheek dewy.

soon — your moans turned into quiet sniffles as keigo continued to ride out your orgasm, extending it until your hands meekly pushed him away by the shoulders, indicating your overstimulation.

“i love you, gonna give me another one baby?” keigo asked tenderly, kissing your knuckles.

“mm~ on your cock kei,”

“i gotchu~ baby.”

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Rose with pistachio from 300 followers prompt list..I'm a sucker for bad boy Law🤭🤭congrats on 300 followers🥳

I am so sorry I made Mean Law into Nice Law at the end :) he's just such a dream!

Pairing: Law x Afab!Reader

WC: 1600

Prompt: “you’re such a fucking asshole.” 

 

“Hey y/n, happy birthday!” Bepo’s fluffy, smiling figure towers above you as he hands you a wrapped gift and a handmade birthday card. 

“I hope you like what we got you! If you don’t, well… that sucks I guess.” Penguin comments from behind the jumpsuit clad polar bear. 

“You guys really didn’t have to do anything… I don’t even like my birthday! A beer or two would have been just fine!” You smiled shyly as your crew mates present you with your gift. You unwrap the package and find a new pink sweatshirt (one you had been eyeing back at the last island and never quite pulled the trigger) and a stained money pouch filled with 1,000 berries. 

“Wow…” You look down and can’t believe anyone would have ever done this for you. You had just joined the crew less than a year ago and had spent most of your time trying to hone your fighting skills, not making friends. “Th-thanks guys…” You eyes begin to well. “Hey, let’s start drinking! It’s a celebration, right?” 

Your crew mates cheered and the small group of you cracked open a few bottles of beer in the kitchen to celebrate. You all enjoyed a terribly made birthday cake and several more beers as you joked and laughed with your friends. The collar of your off-white jumpsuit was stained with amber liquid as the captain of the Polar Tang entered the room. You all briefly paused the festivities. 

“Hey captain why don’t you-“ You gesture towards the fridge. 

“hrrmmph.” Law pushes past you to grab a few tea bags and retreats back to his office. 

“Oh.” You stood by the counter, defeated. You had pined for your captain for so long, but he kept pushing you away. It hurt, but never enough to abandon the pirate life you loved with your crew. 

“Don’t read into it, y/n. He’s been working a lot lately.” Shachi patted your shoulder. 

“Yeah… you’re right.” You sighed and finished your beer. “Thanks guys, but I think I’m going to bed. Thanks for the great birthday.” You faked a smile and headed to your room to wash up and go to sleep. You held back tears as you tried to drift off. 

— —

You awoke in the morning after a restless night.

How could your own captain forget your birthday? The one who asked you to join the crew in the first place? You think back to the day he held you in his arms on the battlefield while you bled out dying… He said he would fix you if you’d join him on his crew as his (insert profession of your choice). After that day you were a Heart Pirate.

Law was never an expressive man, but lately he had kept to himself all together. Your sadness had started to turn to anger. Your morning was spent cleaning the kitchen and you found yourself slamming the mop buckets around and throwing rags into the sink. 

“He’s such a jerk.” You mutter to yourself. 

After a long day of cleaning you prepare dinner for the crew in the galley. Most everyone thanked you and ate their food happily, with the exception of your captain. Law snuck in, loaded a plate full of food and slunk back to his office, without so much as a hello. You seeth through dinner and leave the dishes for whoever was on kitchen duty that night. 

“I’m not letting him act like this.” You tell yourself as you storm out of the galley down the hallway to the captain’s quarters.

 In your furious state, you push the door of his office open without knocking. You found Law at his desk pouring over several textbooks as a forkful of the mac and cheese you made was hanging out of his mouth. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” You storm towards his desk. “You know that?”

“Y/n what-?” Law swallows the bite in his mouth and leans back in his chair. 

“You only fucking care about your stupid research! The Gods fucking forbid you give a shit about anyone else!” You punctuated your last statement by ripping off your apron and balling it up, throwing it on the ground. 

“I assure that everyone on this ship is safe and-“ Law confidently retorts as he rises from his chair and moves towards you. 

“Yesterday was my birthday, Law.” You state firmly and look him in the eye. 

Law had nothing to say. He held your gaze for a few poignant moments. 

Law breaks eye contact and hurriedly moves over to his desk. After shuffling a pile of papers off his workspace, he grabs a small, leather-bound journal and opens it. He sighs as he looks over the page he was searching for. 

“Shit… y/n… I tried to make sure I didn’t forget…” He hung his head at his desk as he slowly shut his calendar. 

He wrote it in his calendar? Your birthday? He cared enough to write it down? You snapped out of your thoughts. 

“Well. Yeah. You did.” You cross your arms. 

“Y/n…. I’m so sorry….” Law strides towards you. His face is inches from yours. You continue to pout, holding firm even though the man you yearned for was breathing down your face. You keep your eyes fixed on the floor. Law gently takes your head in both of his hands and lifts it took look at him. 

“Can I make it up to you?” Law whispers, so close to your own lips. 

“… please…” You gasp out, flustered at your proximity. 

Without hesitation, Law pulls the back of your head towards his and mashes his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. He forcibly sticks his tongue into your mouth and moves one of his hands to grab your hip. You whimper into his mouth as you feel his grip on you tighten. Law grabs your ass and lifts you up to bring you over to the long leather couch in his office. He drops you gently on the soft sofa. Law is on his knees between your legs and leans forward into your neck. 

“Let me take your clothes off…” Law slides your jumpsuit off your shoulders. “I want to prove to you how much I care…” He kisses the crook of your neck as he slips your coveralls off your lower body. 

“Ok…” you panted our nervously as you were now naked in front of him for the first time. He was now between your knees as you sat naked on the leather sofa. Law leaned in to kiss you again, your hands on his neck. As you made out, your hands moved to toss his hat off his head. 

“Take that off, want to feel the real you…” You breath out as you continued to kiss him again. 

Law grunted and backed off of you to remove the rest of his clothes above you. He kneels back down and is face to face with your dripping cunt. 

“Gotta have you now…” Law whispers as he dips his head between your legs. Law swirls his tongue around your clit before he lays the flat of his tongue against your whole sex and drags it up your body. You moan out loud. He stops briefly at your right nipple and sucks harshly before moving his tongue up your body again. Law slides his tongue up your neck from your breast and back into your mouth. 

“Gonna show you how much I care now, okay y/n?” Law whispers in your ear as he lined his cock up with your hole. He teased your slit with his leaking tip before he began dipping in and out of your sopping pussy. 

“Law… want all of you…” You sigh out as you clutch his biceps.

Law smiled down at you. 

“And you’ll get anything you want, love.” Law pushed himself fully inside of you swiftly. You moaned as you felt his pelvis meet yours, feeling his cock caress the deepest places inside your body. 

“Captain!” You shriek out as Law pulls out of you and pushes back in forcefully. 

“I know, I know… just wanna give you the best…” Law grips your hips tightly and thrusted quickly into your wet hole. 

“Shit! Fuck! Law!” You cry as you are bounced against the back of the leather sofa, your captain hitting your spot just right.  “There, Law!” Tears formed at your eyelashes as he brought your body to the culmination of pleasure. 

“Kiss me when you cum. Do it now.” Law leans forward and pushes his mouth onto yours. The rhythmic thrusting of your captain inside of you and his lips on yours was too much for you to handle, you gasp and cream on the cock inside of you. Your eyes roll back into your head and the grip on Law’s arms loosens.

"L-law!"

Your body becomes limp in his hold after your orgasm. 

Law jerks his hips a few times and pulls out of you to spurt hot ropes of cum onto your abdomen. Your normally stoic captain whines as he finished his release. Your head far too hazy to even notice that he had finished on you, you groaned and pulled your lover into your arms. 

“You really meant it, didn’t you?” You whispered teasingly into your lovers face as he brushed your nose with his. 

“What? That I care about you? Of course. As for the rest of tonight… maybe we should.. what’s the word you said? “Soft launch”?”  Law rubbed your noses together.  You laughed. 

“We can keep it quiet for now.” You giggled at your captain. “But I fully expect a party for our anniversary.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Law chuckled as he pulled your body into his and you both drifted off to sleep. 

xx MoMo